Lessons To Be Learnt
by Ravens Kiss
Summary: Despite her status as the resident know it all, Hermione soon discovers that are many things for her yet to learn, and Severus and Lucius are just the men to teach her.
1. Chapter 1

I am a bad monkey :D I know that I've been MIA for far too long, I've actually been trying to work on my own novels to get ready to submit to a publisher. However, my muse is once again on hiatus so I thought I would see about revisiting some of my fanfics. This is yet another rework of the first chapter for this one, I still wasn't happy with the ending. I hope you all enjoy it!

* * *

The dank air of the dungeons surrounded Hermione like a cold embrace causing goose bumps to rise along the exposed flesh of her forearms, her raw and aching fingers swollen as she once again thrust her arms almost elbow deep into the cold soapy water. A groan of frustration flowed from her pursed lips as the water sloshed noisily in the cauldron, a great deal of it splashing up over the sides effectively soaking her already cold feet and drenching the front of her school jumper. Wiping a trail of sweat that had trickled down from her brow and over the curve of her flushed cheek off on the shoulder of her jumper she released the stiff bristled brush into the murky water of the cauldron with a little more vigor than was entirely necessary, once again succeeding in sending a wave crashing down onto her shoes.

"Tell me, Miss Granger, are you intent on flooding the dungeons with your petulant tantrum?" came the crooning and caustic voice of the surly man who sat several feet away behind the broad mahogany desk that was littered with the pathetic essays of her peers.

"No Professor," Hermione managed to force out between clenched teeth, her voice pinched and grating as she scowled into the soapy water with such vehemence that had anyone seen it they would have shrunk back from the Head Girl in fear.

"Then do please try to keep at least _some_ of the water in the cauldron. I believe you shall find it much more effective in your effort to clean the evidence of your fellow classmates ineptitude it if is not all over the floor" Professor Snape continued in his usual silken and yet ferociously biting tone.

"Yes, Sir," she replied in a voice that was equally cold and bitter, wiping her cheek once more against her shoulder before plunging her all but blistered hands back into the frigid water, the harsh soap causing the small cracks in her skin to throb and burn with discomfort. Biting back a small whimper of pain Hermione once again lost herself in the tedious chore of scrubbing cauldrons, mentally berating Harry and Ron for getting her into this mess while praying to Merlin that their detention with Filch was just as horrible and painful as her own.

Time seemed to pass with little meaning as Hermione slaved over the veritable mountain of potion encrusted and eroded cauldrons which she was almost positive Professor Snape had been saving for such an evening as this. It would seem that he had saved the most disgusting and foul smelling cauldrons for a detention that involved one of the Golden Trio, savoring each expression of disgust that she showed, each small groan of revulsion that managed to slip past her firmly closed lips, she knew without a doubt that as he sat in comfort behind his desk slashing his quill laden with brilliant red ink across one parchment after another that deep inside he was giggling gleefully like a child that had received precisely what they wanted for Christmas.

A startled squeak flowed over her lips as she jumped involuntarily when the heavy and smoke stained door to the potions classroom was suddenly swept open in a great flourish that almost matched that of the sour man occupying the one comfortable looking chair in the room. Unable to restrain her curiosity Hermione could not help but glance over her shoulder, through the haze of her sweat dampened hair under the pretense of wiping more moisture from her cheek with one of the few dry spots left on her jumper. The sight that befell her left her struggling to hold back a gasp of shock and dread as the always elegant and proud figure of Lucius Malfoy sauntered through the door, his ever-present sneer of superiority plastered across his undeniably handsome face. Sucking in a shallow breath of surprise Hermione attempted to listen over the furious pounding of her heart in her ears as the two men exchanged pleasant greetings.

"Ah Lucius, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" the dark man asked in an even tone, his voice almost light and jovial, if that could at all be possible for a man that took delight in the fear and humiliation of others.

"Severus, I was simply paying a visit to Draco and thought I might stop by perhaps to share a drink with an old and dear friend," Lucius replied as he seemed to glide across the room, his footsteps sharp and clear as they rang out in the cavernous room, a friendly smile softening the pinched features of his face, bringing a small amount of youthfulness to his countenance. As Lucius drew closer to the great desk Severus rose fluidly to his feet, his heavy and voluminous teaching robes fluttering around him, so reminiscent of a great dark raven ruffling its feathers in a display of dominance that Hermione could not manage to stifle a snort of amusement, the small sound instantly bringing the gaze of both men swiveling around to settle most uncomfortably upon her.

Black polished orbs of obsidian narrowed with irritated scrutiny as they closed in on her, their gaze heavy and heated as though the fires of hell burned beyond their surface while a sneer of contempt flowed across the Potions Master's face, his lip curling back in an expression that was all too familiar to the young woman. The other gaze that alighted upon her was not entirely familiar yet just as disturbing, perhaps even more so than that of her Professor. Eyes the color of bitingly cold winter skies focused on her, glittering like freshly cut diamonds in the wan and constantly flickering torch light of the dungeons, that gaze so cold that it chilled her deep to the core causing her to shiver much to her own annoyance.

"Forgive me Severus, I was not aware that you had _company_," Lucius all but purred, his tone still full of silken promise yet containing less of its former camaraderie. A flush of indignation flooded into Hermione's cheeks, her eyes narrowing with anger as the flippant and barely masked insults flowed from the Professor's lips,

"Ah yes, one of Dumbledore's precious Golden Trio sent to endure such_terrible_ torture at the hands of the dour Potions Professor. Hardly a fitting punishment I feel for the enduring stupidity and blatant disregard for school rules that they continue to torment teachers with. But alas, the Headmaster will not allow me to dole out a more reasonable punishment, no matter how much the insolent know-it-all may deserve it." All the while Professor Snape firmly maintained eye contact with Hermione, his fathomless inky gaze conveying that he meant each jab and belittlement to the very core of his soul, his boundless dislike of her and hatred of her friends clearly evident in the bitter heat that poured forth in that simple connection.

Clenching her teeth together so firmly that a tremendous grating sound seemed to echo within her head Hermione desperately fought to hold back a scathing response, her eyes all but watering with the effort while her still dripping hands clenched into fists at her sides. Her withering glare aimed at the Potions Professor was effortlessly drawn away towards the light haired yet equally dark natured man at his side as Lucius made a pondering sound. It was barely little more than a soft murmur but enough to pierce Hermione's weak defenses, her warm honeyed gaze quickly settling upon the father of her most despised classmate.

"So_this_ is the great and esteemed Hermione Granger," Lucius drawled as his eyes roamed over her appraisingly, his nose wrinkling slightly with a hint of disapproval. "Draco has told me much about her, or rather whined most petulantly about her, quite an unbecoming habit that the boy must be broken of I have to admit. It would seem she is quite the clever little _witch_," he carried on in dulcet tones, his voice even and smooth almost to the point of being sultry as he spoke, his lips moving fluidly in a way that could perhaps even be described as seductive.

"Indeed," Severus replied with an almost bored air, his arms causally crossing over his chest, one large yet delicate looking hand coming to rest beneath his chin, idly stroking the faint dark shadow that had begun to form over the course of the evening. "Even I must admit that she does possess a sharp wit and more than decent talent for memorizing tomes and lectures, but she lacks the self control and discipline necessary to become anything more than a mere glorified dicto-quill. It's a pity really, I had once thought her so promising but I fear she shall amount to little once her schooling is complete," he continued while maintaining direct eye contact with Hermione, a challenging smile tugging at the corners of his lips while he arched a black brow at her, daring her to speak out in her own defense.

Gritting her teeth ever more firmly until she was certain that she was going to break several of her teeth or at least have a horrible toothache come morning, Hermione curled her hands into tighter fists causing her nails as shortly cut as they were to bite into the flesh of her palms, leaving crescent shaped indentations in their wake.

"Hmm, yes she does seem to lack a certain amount of passion that is needed to truly excel in our world. As you said, such a pity," Lucius easily purred in response as he cast his eyes over her from head to toe once more, those diamond eyes seemingly cutting through Hermione's clothes and defenses as if he could see her completely, physically and emotionally.

A burning flood of heat rushed into Hermione's usually pale and freckled cheeks, the sudden change in color causing her gleaming eyes to stand out all the more against her skin, shinning brightly now like sinfully sweet milk chocolate dotted with tiny glittering flecks of gold. Grinding her teeth in frustration Hermione stood still as a statue, her heavy breaths that caused her chest to rise and fall beneath the confining heat of her jumper the only sign that she was indeed alive and not simply some nymph carved of the finest alabaster.

For several long moments she stood her ground, staring almost defiantly into the face of the Potions Master, the austere and darkly refined man at his side for the moment completely forgotten as a battle of wills was waged in the silent dungeon classroom. A smirk of dark amusement fluidly flowed across the sour man's face, his full lower lip curling back over his teeth while his dark eyes glittered dangerously beneath sleek coal black brows.

"Is there something you wish to say Miss Ganger?" he purred silkily in a tone that was almost soft, though the challenge was evident beneath the liquid cadence of his voice. He was baiting her, and she knew it, knew it as surely as she knew all the details ensconced within_Hogwarts: A History_, and yet although she knew it unwise to rise to his challenge, Hermione could not deny the overwhelming desire she felt to finally put the miserable man in his place, to stand up for herself and friends. Drawing in a deep breath Hermione clamped down on the urge to let a torrent of curses, berating remarks and accusations rain free from her lips, and instead simply clenched her teeth together all the more tightly and gave a sharp shake of her head.

"I thought not, pity that you lack the conviction to say the words that roil so aimlessly within your mind," Severus mused after making a soft sound of amusement as his hand rose lazily to curl around his chin, rubbing against the rough stubble there. Another long moment stretched out between them endlessly, honeyed brown eyes refusing to back down from glittering black orbs that threatened to swallow her whole, until finally Lucius could hold back his own sounds of amusement no longer. A deep and rumbling chuckle filled the air, rough and manly it floated on the almost non-existent breeze in the cool dungeons, his cold and mirthful eyes narrowed in good humor as he gazed between his oldest and dearest friend, and the young woman across the room, each of them radiating waves of tension and anticipation.

"Perhaps I should leave you two alone," he chuckled, his voice little more than a decadent purr as the wheels began turning in his ever calculating Slytherin mind. A loud and abrasive snort was the first response to come from Severus as his attention was momentarily drawn away from the infuriating and yet utterly intriguing young woman standing across from him. Narrowing his eyes in derision Severus cast a withering glance towards his school-time friend, finding little to laugh about in the situation though Lucius apparently was more than amused by the current proceedings.

"That will not be necessary, I assure you," Severus ground out a little more bitterly than he had intended, his shoulders instantly relaxing a little as he forced himself to take a long and calming breath. Turning cold and belittling eyes back towards Hermione, he said coolly,

"You may pack your things and go Miss Granger. Your services will no longer be needed this evening." Once again Lucius' deep and throaty chuckle hung in the air, bringing a certain degree of warmth to the dungeons, as he watched the young woman nod her head in stiff acknowledgement of her overbearing professor. He watched with keen interest as she moved fluidly about the clutter of cauldrons and buckets of dirty water around her, carefully and yet quickly gathering her belongings and donning the simple outer robe, while also perceiving from the corner of his eye that Severus too was watching the young woman, perhaps a little more closely than was entirely appropriate for a professor.

Lucius surveyed the gently swaying movement of Hermione's hips as she crossed the room making sure to give both men a wide berth as she approached the door, her unruly mass of curls reflecting the flickering torch light in an enchanting dance of light and shadow. It was with much difficulty that Lucius managed to suppress another rumble of laughter as the man at his shoulder said in a biting tone,

"I shall expect you at the same time tomorrow evening, Miss Granger, there are many more cauldrons waiting for you. Make sure that you are not late." A barely perceivable nod of her bushy head and a hoarsely spoken "Yes Professor," was the simple response that she gave before hurriedly ducking out of the door and disappearing into the darkened dungeon hallways.

"Insufferable girl," Severus grumbled as he turned swiftly on his heel once the trailing edge of Hermione's robes had vanished from the doorway, while Lucius lingered a moment longer gazing at the door deep in thought. He had heard many things of the young Miss Granger, her sharp intellect, unfaltering loyalty and ferocious thirst for knowledge were known of and discussed even within his circles of acquaintance. However, as he now stood and gazed at the closed door, the imprint of her visage stamped firmly upon his mind, Lucius could not help but wonder why his dear and long time friend had never spoken of the young woman's beauty.

"Insufferable though she may be to you, Severus, even you cannot deny a certain_allure_ that she possesses," Lucius crooned softly as he turned away from the door and walked around the large dark desk that dominated the room and moved fluidly into Severus' private office.

"Don't be revolting, Lucius," Severus replied snidely as he shed the suffocating volumes of his ink black outer robes, carelessly draping them over the back of the leather chair behind his desk and stalked towards the small liquor cabinet beside the fireplace. "She is the same age as Draco, not to mention one of the insipid and constantly irritating Golden Trio," he continued as he drew two finely cut crystal glasses from the cabinet as well as a decanter of brandy. Pausing for a moment he looked to Lucius who gave a small nod in answer to the unasked question, before pouring equal amounts of brandy into each glass.

Settling himself comfortably into one of the dark green leather armchairs in front of the fire, while retaining an air of superiority and upper class grace, Lucius watched through half closed lids as Severus handed him a glass before seating himself in the opposite chair.

"That may be the case dear friend, but even you cannot deny the curves on that one," Lucius purred with a wicked smile clinging to his thin pale rose lips, his crystal eyes gleaming with mischief. Half-heartedly stifling his snort of disagreement with a long slow sip from his glass, Severus shook his head slowly.

"There are many far more appealing members of the student body I can assure you, Lucius," he replied as he closed his eyes and laid his head back against the cool leather of the chair.

"Been paying close attention to your students have you, friend?" Lucius asked with a smirk of amusement that only deepened all the more as he watched a similar expression blossom on his counterparts face.

"I neither confirm nor deny that statement," Severus mused quietly as he opened his eyes just enough to glance at his blonde friend through his charcoal lashes. Chuckling, Lucius settled farther back into his chair, the leather warming deliciously around him from the heat of the fire that burned brightly in the small grate by his feet.

"And you call me a lecherous old man," he murmured in mock offense, his eyes flashing with mirth in the firelight as he watched Severus chuckle darkly, his full bottom lip glistening with brandy.

"Mmm, and you have never denied it," Severus replied smoothly, his fingers idly stroking the cool crystal glass as it rested forgotten upon his knee.

"Just as you have never admitted it," was the warm laughing reply he received as Lucius rose languidly from his chair and moved to refill his glass, offering a top-up to Severus who remained slouched in his chair, a faint smile of amusement playing on his lips as he absently raised his glass.

After refilling both their glasses Lucius moved around Severus' chair, letting his long pale fingers glide almost lovingly over Severus' black tresses and across his snow white cheek in a gentle caress.

"I know you miss it," Lucius murmured softly as he continued around the side of Severus' chair, passing in front of the fire to stand before his oldest friend, depositing his refilled glass upon a nearby table in the process.

"Miss what?" Severus responded, his voice fluid and loose, baring no signs of the acerbic tone it normally held. He continued to sit slouched in his chair, his legs idly spread as he gazed up at the older man with gleaming eyes, the brandy already buzzing through his system, relaxing his muscles and his typically stiff demeanor.

"The chase, the hunt, the thrill of ensnaring your prey," Lucius answered, his own voice filled with a deep warmth and teasing sensuality as he stepped into the space between Severus' legs and laid his hands upon the back of the chair on either side of his head.

"Perhaps," he said slowly, his tone ponderous as he raised his glass to his lips, the warm scent of the amber liquid swirling just beneath his hooked nose, somehow drawing an imagine of Miss Granger to his mind. The fiery glint of her eyes as she stared him down in anger, the dark cinnamon color of her ridiculously uncontrollable mass of hair, the faint trail of freckles that crept over the bridge of her nose like fairy footprints.

"Come now, there are no secrets between us," Lucius whispered, his voice almost lost in the crackle of the nearby fire as he leant towards Severus, his impressive height casting a shadow over the still slightly distant man. "I can see it in your eyes. That old desire that never goes away, the craving for young flesh. Untouched. Unsoiled. Pure," he continued, each word accompanied by a further descent until his lips hovered barely an inch from Severus, their warm breath mingling in the space between them. "You want her," he added finally, his voice grown rough and breathless as visions of the young woman in question danced through his mind.

"Yesss," Severus hissed, his eyes heavily lidded as he closed the small distance remaining between them, lingering a hare's breath away, feeling the soft caress of Lucius' breath flowing across his face, playing along the edge of his lips.

"We shall take her together," Lucius murmured, his words swallowed eagerly by the man beneath him, a sharp nip to his lower lip the only confirmation he needed as the plan to seduce the delectable Miss Granger began to evolve in his mind.


	2. Chapter 2

Here is the second chapter I had in the works, now finished. Hopefully more to come soon...

* * *

Sunlight streamed unhindered through the large windows of the Great Hall, falling like sharp colored shards through Severus' bleary vision, his head pounding in time with the beat of his heart. Each juvenile giggle, scrape of a fork and rustle of a page was like a fire-hot knife slicing through his brain, inflicting deep and ravaging pain on his still sleep addled mind. Internally he was berating himself for indulging so deeply in the liquid heat pleasure of an exquisite brandy, and the even more delicious form of his longtime lover. 

He could still feel the deep ache in his limbs, and the stinging lines of fire upon his back where artfully manicured nails had bitten into his flesh. There was no guilt in his self derision, simply a mild anger at himself for allowing such pleasurable events to continue as late into the night as they had. And so he glared out over the sea of students with more vehemence than usual, an occurrence that did not go unnoticed by all.

"What's up with Snape?" asked Ron around a mouthful of scrambled eggs and bacon as he jerked his head in the direction of the High Table.

"Yeah, Hermione, what did you do to Snape in detention last night?" Harry added with a chuckle as he turned to glance at the dark Professor looking even more sour than usual, his eyes narrowed in malicious contempt as he stared into his coffee cup with a mutinous expression, his face pinched and pale.

"How many times do I have to remind you boys, it's _Professor_ Snape?" Hermione replied with a sigh as she drew a piece of toast onto her plate and began slathering it with jam. "Besides, shouldn't you be asking what he did to me?" she continued a little shrilly as she showed them her still reddened and swollen hands.

However, it seemed that there would be no sympathy offered from the dubious duo who each had their own wounds from the night before. Dark circles ringed their eyes, their hair tousled, at least more so than was typical, and their own hands stiff and swollen from polishing the cups and plaques in the trophy room until the wee hours of the morning. Noting their looks of amusement she dipped her head in chagrin and murmured a weak sounding,

"Sorry guys."

"It's alright 'Mione, as bad as detention was with Filch, at least we had each other to share in the pain," Harry said with a soft smile as he reached across the table and laid stiff fingers gently over Hermione's own sore hand.

"Yeah, we didn't have to suffer Snape alone, you have a right to be mad," Ron chimed in before shoveling another forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth with a rueful smile. "So, what class do we have first?" he continued after managing to swallow a mouthful of food big enough to satisfy even a hippogriff.

"Potions," Hermione mumbled in response before laying her head on her arms with a sigh, receiving a chuckle and comforting pat on the head from both boys. "Merlin must hate me," she groused moments later, her voice muffled as it emanated from somewhere deep in the mass of curls presently spilling onto the table and threatening to fall into a nearby jam jar.

"Why do you say that?" Harry asked, his voice still warmed with a lingering trace of amusement as he sipped at his pumpkin juice.

"Because, I have another detention tonight with Professor _Sunshine_," she murmured while still refusing to emerge from the safety of her hair.

"Geeze, 'Mione! What did you do to the great git?" Ron exclaimed, sufficiently surprised to forget the food laden fork that hung in the air half way to his mouth, and draw the attention of a couple nearby Gryffindors.

"_I_ didn't do anything, _Ronald_!" she hissed in a whisper as her head snapped upwards, her unruly hair bouncing ferociously on her shoulders as she pinned him with a withering glare.

Sensing the mounting tension between his friends, Harry cut in as softly and smoothly as possible in a desperate attempt to diffuse the situation,

"Something must have happened, 'Mione. It's not often that Snape doles out more than one detention. What happened last night?" His words were accompanied by a gentle hand upon her stiff shoulder, his feather-soft touch slowly working to soothe her temper.

Dragging her eyes away from the red-faced Weasley, Hermione once again rested her forehead on her crossed arms, the sounds of the Great Hall muffled by the curtain of her hair. When Hermione didn't respond at first, the boys assumed that she wouldn't answer, however, finally her voice came soft and sullen sounding as she turned her head to the side to look at them. "Lucius Malfoy showed up and…"

"And, what?" Harry prompted when she grew quiet again.

"They made fun of me," she whispered, her expression down-trodden.

"So?" Ron put in as he finally pushed an empty plate away from himself, his fingers wiggling for a moment in indecision over a plate of doughnuts.

"What do you mean 'so'?" she snapped in reply as she sat up straight, all sullenness forgotten as she glared at him, while Harry rolled his eyes, knowing that an argument was about to ensue no matter what he did.

"Well," Ron began as his gluttonous appetite won out over his hesitance and he grabbed a large sugar coated doughnut, leaving a trail of white powder on the table as he brought it to his lips. "Snape and Malfoy aren't known for being merry fellows are they?" he continued after taking a large bite out of the sugary confection, a puff of sweetness swirling around him as a generous coating covered his upper lip and chin.

"You're disgusting," Hermione muttered as she turned her eyes away from him, letting them sweep over the crowded and noisy room.

"Wha'?" Ron asked through a mouthful of doughnut, his exhalations releasing more clouds of sugar upon the air. Rolling her eyes in frustration, Hermione simply swung her legs over the bench and settled her backpack onto her shoulder. "Where… you goin'?" Ron continued after swallowing the remnants of his breakfast and proceeding to lick his fingers clean.

"_I_ am going to class Ron, you however, can go fuck yourself!" Hermione snapped before stalking out of the Great Hall, Ron and Harry watching her leave with matching bewildered expressions.

"What got her knickers in a twist?" Ron grumbled as he reached for another doughnut, his boundless appetite making even Harry wince.

"I'll give you one guess, mate," Harry responded as he nodded towards the High Table, where a surly and scowling Severus Snape watched the retreating back of Hermione as she slipped through the doors.

Potions began on a sour note, with Hermione defiantly ignoring Ron's attempts to capture her attention so that he could apologize, and only proceeded to get worse as the hour progressed. Professor Snape was his usual acerbic and callous self as he set the students to work, giving the instructions for the day's lesson in a cold and biting tone, while his shrewd dark eyes swept over them all. However, to anyone who would have taken the time to notice, he seemed unsettled and restless as he paced the room, occasionally returning to his desk to grade papers, only to rise after a few moments and stalk between the rows of desks once more.

Half way through class Harry noticed the professor's peculiar behavior, and after elbowing Ron in the ribs to get his attention whispered,

"Looks like someone else has gotten their knickers in a twist." Biting back a snort of laughter, Ron quickly ducked his reddening face as the man in question swept past them in a flurry of billowing robes.

Rounding quickly on his heel, Severus shot a dark look at the two snickering fools, striding towards them once more he watched with mild delight as they both blanched, their hands trembling above their cauldrons as he grew closer to them and seemed to pause in his step. The pathetic red-headed imbecile swallowed audibly as he lowered his eyes to his cauldron, and then breathed a great sigh of relief as Severus continued past them, coming to a halt instead beside Hermione's desk.

At first she was completely oblivious to his looming presence, focused intently upon her potion as she deftly stirred the simmering pale purple liquid with slow and precise strokes. He watched intently with scrutiny shinning clearly in his eyes while her lips moved soundlessly as she counted the turns of her wrist above the cauldron, "Five… Six… Seven…" Waiting until the pivotal moment in the process when she was required to add three carefully measured drops of Bubotuber Pus, Severus leapt into action, his cold and biting tone cutting through the subdued hum of the classroom,

"And just what is so funny, Miss Ganger?"

Emitting a sudden shriek of surprise, Hermione jumped uncontrollably and succeeded in pouring half the bottle of Bubotuber Pus into her cauldron, the pale purple liquid instantly darkening to a sour looking green as it hissed and smoked before solidifying into a thick, sticky mass at the bottom. Staring in dismay at her ruined potion, Hermione momentarily forgot the dark man hovering at her shoulder until his voice cut into her awareness,

"Well, Miss Granger? Do you have an explanation for what you found so amusing that you should disrupt my classroom with your inane snickering?"

Turning to face the dour man, Hermione took several faltering steps backwards to place a more comfortable distance between them, almost bumping into Neville who stood frozen in fear, his own hand hanging precariously over his cauldron with a bottle of Bubotuber Pus.

"Mister Longbottom, put that bottle down before you succeed in melting yet_another_ cauldron," Severus snapped as his eyes momentarily focused on the trembling boy. Flicking his eyes back to Hermione, Severus barely registered the faint _clink_ of Neville's phial of Bubotuber Pus being set gently back on the lab table.

"Well, Miss Granger? Kneazle got your tongue?" Severus purred darkly, the rest of the room forgotten in that moment as he glared down into her upturned face, her golden brown eyes wide and questioning.

"I don't know what you are referring to, Professor…" she began softly, too confused to feel the anger that bubbled within her.

"I am referring, Miss Granger, to your complete lack of regard for the order of my classroom," he hissed as he took a step forward, once more diminishing the space between them.

"I'm sorry, Professor, but I really don't know what…" Hermione began again, her pale brow furrowed in confusion.

"Enough!" Severus quickly cut her off, "I will have none of your denials or pathetic attempts to weasel your way out of this one. Detention, tomorrow night at 8 o'clock sharp," he finished before turning to sweep away.

"But Professor, Hermione wasn't laughing, it was…" Harry stated in a sudden show of defiance, apparently he did have a spine after all.

"Silence, Mister Potter! I would advise you to hold your tongue else you find yourself enjoying the _delights_ of another detention served with Mr. Filch," Severus interrupted as he spun on his heel to glower at the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-A-Pain-In-His-Arse.

"Professor…" Ron chimed in, his cheeks reddening to match his hair as soon as Severus' eyes locked on him, effectively stopping any protest he had been about to make.

"As for the rest of you," Severus said rounding on the remainder of the class, "I suggest you get back to work before you find yourselves also receiving a zero for the day."

At first, Hermione could do nothing but watch his retreating back in bewilderment, her mouth hanging agape as he practically sauntered down the aisle between the rows of students towards his desk. Her mind was a fog of confusion as she stared at his back, the ends of his robes brushing the floor with a soft whisper. It wasn't until he rounded his desk, and settled into his seat, his eyes rising to meet hers, that she felt the flood of anger fill her again.

A smug smile clung to his thin lips, barely perceivable to anyone else, it tugged at the corners of his mouth, and danced clearly in his eyes. Sliding fluidly into his chair, he steepled long pale fingers beneath his chin, and ever so slowly raised a single black brow in challenge. He was goading her, daring her to retaliate, as he knew she so desperately wanted to do, the tension visible in the strained muscles of her neck, the reflexive balling of her fists at her sides, and the firm set of her jaw. And then he looked away, the motion subtle and yet a clear dismissal, as if she was as worthless as a bug.

Instantly, the previous night's events unfurled in her mind, the look of mocking derision and contempt in his eyes as he had stared her down, the biting and impotent anger that had raged within her veins like a forest fire, unable to be spent. She had felt helpless in her fury as she stood in the dungeon room the night before, Professor Snape and Mr. Malfoy so obviously amused by her inability to defend herself against their malicious teasing.

It was a faint sensation, almost lost in the storm of emotions raging within her gut, and yet it resonated throughout her entire body – a snap somewhere deep down inside that opened the flood gates upon her anger. With her hands still held in fierce fists at her sides, Hermione stepped around her desk and walked stiffly towards the front of the classroom, her progress unnoticed by any of the other students as they focused intently upon their own potions in fear of attracting the Potions Master's angry attention, and the callous man himself. Her steps were slow, almost sedate, and yet full of furious purpose as she advanced towards him, the sharp sound of her heel upon the stones finally drawing his focus to her once more as she came to a halt before him.

"Come to apologize, Miss Granger?" he crooned, not bothering to raise his eyes in acknowledgment of her, his quill slashing a large red mark across the parchment before him.

"I wish to speak to you, Professor," she managed to murmur between clenched teeth.

"A simple 'I'm sorry, Professor' will suffice," he said as if he had not heard her speak, though the smug inflection in his voice said otherwise.

"I do not think…" she began in the same forced tone.

"Obviously," he cut in, his gaze still centered on the essay before him. "You rarely do think, Miss Granger, and it is perhaps your greatest fault," he continued in an almost bored tone, though the cruel bite of his words was clearly evident.

"You misunderstand, Professor, I…" she began again defiantly, her voice even more strained, though still held low so as not to draw the attention of anyone else.

"No, Miss Granger," he cut in once more, finally laying his quill aside and folding his hands upon the desktop as he raised his head and looked up into her face. "It is you who are mistaken. You are under the absurd notion that what you say has any sway over the situation you have created. That a lackluster and pallid apology will somehow erase your punishment and leave you free to flaunt your arrogant disregard for school rules and your professors. You are, quite obviously, in the wrong. Now, return to your seat before my patience in completely expired," he finished with a dismissive wave of his hand before picking up his quill once more.

Floundering in indignation, Hermione was at first unable to find her voice, it lay trapped somewhere beneath the lump of rage lodged in her throat. However, as her short trimmed nails bit into the tender flesh of her palms as they had the night before, she managed to push her seething anger aside and grind out a growling, "No."

As if in slow motion, Professor Snape raised his head once more, his eyes blinking slowly while a deep furrow formed in the center of his brow. His head remained slightly downcast, a deep blanket of shadows playing across his features, making them appear all the more severe while the veil of his black hair framed his pale cheeks.

"I believe that I misheard you, Miss Granger. For a moment, I thought I heard you blatantly defy an instruction from a Professor. However, it must have been a trick of the wind, for surely you would not be so foolish given recent events," he replied, his own voice low, barely more than a hissing whisper, full of venom and warning.

"No, I think you heard me just fine," Hermione fired back with equal amounts of poison in her voice. "I will not apologize because I have done nothing wrong. In fact, Professor, I believe that it is _you_ who owes _me_ an apology," she continued unabated.

A sharp bark of incredulous laughter broke what little amount of silence remained in the room, the indecorous sound bringing the combined attention of the classroom to the front of the room, and the Head Girl that stood glowering resolutely at the fearsome professor.

"I would advise you, Miss Granger, to desist this wholly inappropriate behavior before you find yourself well and truly in over your head," Professor Snape warned darkly, rising slowly to his feet, his hands planted firmly upon the top of his desk.

"I don't care one whit what you would advise," she replied flippantly, her words, now loud enough for the other students to hear, bringing a collective gasp from all those present, that was quickly followed by several murmurs of "The Head Girl has finally snapped!"

"That is enough, Miss Granger," he growled as he leant across his desk, the shadows upon his face deepening until all that remained visible was the crooked tip of his nose the dangerous gleam of his eyes.

"Oh, it's nowhere near enough!" she spat back viciously, her own eyes gleaming with malcontent fury, sparkling sharply in the diffused light.

"Stop this brash behavior this instant," Professor Snape growled, the not so hushed murmurs from the rest of the classroom brushing against his frayed nerves, only working to increase his own mounting anger.

So swift was the motion, that Professor Snape was unaware of Hermione's approaching hand until it was barely an inch from his face. The sharp sound of her hand striking his cheek resounding in the suddenly silent room, a brilliant red imprint of her palm and fingers instantly blazing like a beacon upon his pallid flesh.

"She did what?" exclaimed Lucius from his seat in front of the fire, his voice twisted and choked by deep and rumbling laughter.

"You heard me," Severus replied from his vantage point beside the fireplace, his elbow resting upon the old wooden mantle while his hand idly rubbed the faint pink mark upon his cheek. "And then she told me to kiss her arse before storming out of the classroom," he continued, his brow furrowed deeply as he contemplated the glass clasped in his hand.

"Mmm, quite an interesting proposition," Lucius drawled slowly, his tone full of liquid silk and dark promise.

"I hardly think it was an offer, Lucius," he replied with irritation.

"Still…" Lucius pondered as he gazed at his friend with hungry eyes.

"Tell me, old friend, does your mind _permanently_ reside in the gutter?" Severus asked as he raised the glass to his lips and drained it of its amber contents.

"Not permanently, no," he purred in reply, his eyes continuing to roam over the dark man with desire. "I occasionally like to think about money and power," he added with dark amusement a moment later.

"What a strenuous life you must lead," Severus countered sardonically with a roll of his eyes.

"And what punishment has our little nymph's latest outburst cost her?" Lucius prompted as he swirled the contents of his own glass, watching the firelight reflected in the dark golden liquid for a moment.

"Two weeks of detention with yours truly," he replied with a barley concealed smirk, his gaze finally focusing on the man before him.

"Ah, perfect," Lucius crooned. "I believe it is time to put our plan into action."

"Indeed," Severus responded as he pushed away from the mantle to set his empty glass upon a small side table before advancing upon Lucius, and enveloping him in a cloud of black robes and searing kisses.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, I know most of you left messages when this was originally posted eons ago, hopefully some of you will stumble across it again. And of course, thank you to the new readers :) Anyway, it would appear that I am, for now, on a roll. Keep your fingers crossed that my muse will stick around for a bit longer this time. Hope you guys like this one. My, but Hermione can be fiesty.

* * *

A leaden lump of trepidation lay heavy and nauseating in the pit of Hermione's stomach as she walked purposefully down the broad staircase that led into in the dungeons. Even now she could still hear Harry and Ron's words echoing in her head, their pleas for her to control her temper, to ignore anything that Professor Snape might say. But they had all fallen upon deaf ears, the rage that burned within her too bright and fierce to take heed of any warnings, and so it was that, with hesitation like a corporeal weight in her stomach, and anger still buzzing furiously through her veins, she approached the door to the potions classroom.

She was in her seventh year now, so close to escaping from the suddenly restrictive walls of Hogwarts that she could almost taste freedom like sweet honey upon her tongue. And yet, at times she still felt so much like the awkward and ungainly first year that had stepped awestruck into the Great Hall. So much had transpired between that first day and where she was now, so many dangers, countless close brushes with death, that she barely felt a connection to that child giddy with excitement.

All these years she had born the weight of those events upon her shoulders with silence, unwilling to share her inner most thoughts and fears with Harry and Ron. Although they were her dearest and closest friends, she could not expect them to comprehend the anger that seemed to boil constantly beneath the surface these days. It was thick and cloying in its bitterness as it lay like a slumbering beast just beneath the surface of her skin, waiting and biding its time until it could pour forth all of the pent up anger, frustration and hurt.

So far she had managed to trudge on day after day keeping the beast at bay, reining it in each time it threatened to break free and decimate whoever was unlucky enough to be in her path. But now, it felt closer to the surface than ever, growling and pacing with the need to be set free. As clearly as the words of her friends ran through her mind, so too did those of Professor Snape and Lucius Malfoy, the obvious and sneering contempt fanning the flames of her passionate fury.

Grinding her teeth audibly, she readjusted the weight of her book bag upon her shoulder, and without pausing to knock up the dark oaken door, flung it open and stepped into the classroom. The thunderous sound of the door recoiling into the wall accompanied by the fierce and sharp ring of her heels upon the time worn stone reverberated like a deep brass bell in the cavernous room. With her chin held high in defiance she strode into the room with measured steps, each one jarring her clenched jaw as she swept past the broad mahogany desk and scowling Professor behind it.

Hermione came to a halt at the station she had occupied the evening before, the stack of disgusting cauldrons exactly as she had left them, accompanied by an empty bucket and a scrubbing brush. Setting down her book bag, and removing her outer robe which she then draped over a nearby chair, she picked up the bucket and made her way to the nearest sink. Like a heavy weight upon her back, she could feel the pressure of Professor Snape's gaze, searing hot and prickling along her skin as she resolutely ignored him and began filling the bucket with water.

It wasn't until she had turned off the water and was attempting to heft the full bucket out of the sink that she heard the subtle rasp of Professor Snape's boot heels upon the stone advancing towards her. Clenching her teeth all the more in an effort to block out the dark aura of him drawing closer, she kept her eyes focused downwards and turned to place the bucket beside the mountain of cauldrons.

"I see that your attitude has not been improved, Miss Granger," Professor Snape purred in contempt as he drew level with her, his arms moving into their customary position crossed over his chest as he glared at her down the crooked line of his nose.

"My attitude is just fine, Professor," she snipped in reply as she settled the bucket on the floor, a small wave of clean water sloshing over the side and onto the dark stone floor, running in small rivulets into the cracks and crevices.

"And that perhaps a Lip-Locking Curse might be in order tonight," he added with a deepened sneer at her snotty response. She could feel the endless of smugness rolling off of him, each one crashing into her with an almost palpable weight, each one sending her own roiling emotions skyrocketing towards the edges of her restraint.

"Do as you wish, Professor, I am simply here to fulfill the duties of my detention," Hermione replied with the same smooth and disinterested cadence, her attention once more focused upon her task as she turned her shoulder towards him, clearly dismissing him as he had done to her so many times over the years.

"I believe, Miss Granger, that your eternally wagging tongue has just earned you another detention for this week, that would bring the sum to four now. Are you attempting to break a record I am unaware of?" he enquired silkily, his gaze firmly settled upon her shoulder, boring into her.

A simple and almost unperceivable shrug was the only response he received from the stubborn witch as she bent to haul the first cauldron into place, a single lock of her dark cinnamon hair falling against the smooth plane of her cheek.

"And twenty points from Gryffindor for failing to address a professor appropriately," he added, his voice beginning to show signs of the mounting frustration he felt. Once more Hermione's only response was to give an unconcerned shrug of her narrows shoulders while she raised a hand to push the errant curl back behind her ear.

Unable to repress the growl of irritation that bubbled in his throat, Severus' hand struck with the deadly accuracy of a cobra, grasping her upper arm viciously and jerking her around to face him, the movement drawing a faint squeak of surprise from her lips. However, she recovered quickly, clamping her lips shut, and adopting an unaffected and disinterested air, her eyes focusing on the floor.

"Look at me when I am speaking to you, you impertinent girl!"

"I'm sorry, Professor, I was not aware that my participation was truly necessary in this discussion," she replied smoothly, her gaze remaining lowered, staring somewhere in the vicinity of the toes of his boots. "You seemed to be doing so well on your own that I did not wish to interrupt," she added with a frosty affection to her tone.

"What in Merlin's name has gotten into you?" he demanded in an equally icy tone, his eyes narrowed in suspicion as he shook her roughly, finally managing to draw her gaze up to his own. The deep and dark fire that burned within their warm caramel depths caught him off guard for a moment, his grip upon her arm loosening enough for her to wretch her arm free of his grasp.

Standing with her own arms crossed over her chest in a fair facsimile of his usual stance, Hermione ignored the desire to rub the soreness from her bicep, the dull ache his fingers had left in their wake holding back her anger for a few precious moments.

"Have you been hexed? That surely must be it, because I never known you to so completely take leave of your senses," he demanded as he matched her unflinching glare, watching the tiny golden flecks in her eyes dance with resentment.

"I have been neither hexed, cursed, or bewitched Professor. I am in full command of my senses," she replied, still using a tone of disinterested boredom as though she were discussing something as dull as the weather. It was that tone of voice, so devoid of the usual spirit and fight she possessed, that caused Severus to reach for her again, his fingers once more closing over the soft flesh of her upper arm.

"Let go of me!" she exclaimed, her voice devoid of shrill and girlish irritation, rather it was overflowing with hot hatred.

"Not until you explain your behavior of today to me," he replied coolly, his beak like nose barely more than an inch from her own, the heat of his exhalations flowing over her flushed cheeks.

"Let go of me," Hermione repeated in a growl, the fingers of her free hand curling into an enraged fist.

"No," he snarled in reply, a long shank of hair falling over his eye and casting a deep shadow across his face.

This time, Severus saw it coming, the tensing of her shoulders as her hand rose, fingers splayed as they moved with lightning speed towards his face, the bitter rage reflected so clearly within her eyes. A soft and muffled whimper broke free of her lips as he closed his hand around her delicate wrist in an iron grip, his own much longer fingers biting into her tender flesh.

For a brief moment her eyes appeared glassy with unshed tears of pain, and then after giving her head a defiant toss, she matched his gaze once more.

"Once already, you have raised your hand in anger to me, Miss Granger, it is not an act you shall ever repeat. Now, control your temper this instant before you find yourself in far deeper trouble than you could ever imagine. I am a tolerant man, Miss Granger, but my patience will last only so far. You will do well to remember that in future."

The sudden puff of heated air against his face was accompanied by a bark of disbelieving laughter, bitter mirth shinning in her eyes as she once again pulled free of his grasp, though she did not retreat from him.

"You? A Tolerant man? I would sooner believe that Merlin wore star spangled knickers, than that," she proclaimed through her laughter, her gaze never wavering from his.

"Miss Granger," he snarled in warning as he took another step towards her, his shadow completely enveloping her slight frame.

"Go ahead, give me another detention and take away more points…"

"Done and done," he growled as he continued to close the space between them, somewhere in the back of his mind impressed by the girls sudden display of gumption, perhaps Gryffindor bravery did have it merits after all.

"… I don't care what you do to me. Every action you take only proves your inability to move beyond your past. You're nothing but a sad, pathetic bastard who inflicts pain on those around him because he cannot stand the man he sees in the mirror," she continued as if he had not spoken.

"Get out!" he howled suddenly, his anger finally on the verge of snapping and crossing over into an uncontrollable rage. How dare she make such assumptions about him, who was she to throw stones so freely? With her constant disregard for school rules, and her penchant for proving just how much a little know-it-all she was, she was no better than he.

"Gladly," she replied in a suddenly sickly sweet tone as she slipped around him smoothly, and gathered up her robes and book bag before sweeping out of the room, the door shuddering in its frame as it slammed shut behind her. For several long moments, Severus stood unmoving and barely thinking, his fury seething in his chest as a heavy heat. Slowly his hands rose to his face, long, skillful fingers massaging his pounding temples, seeking to ease away the furious beating of his heart that echoed in his head as loudly as the door through which she had just exited.

"She played you like a fiddle, my friend," Lucius purred as he stepped into the shadowy doorway between the classroom and the Professor's private chambers. Half cast in shadow, the dim light of the torches in the room gleamed on the loose cascade of his hair as it trailed like a snake over his shoulder down to his waist. Leaning one decadently clad shoulder against the door frame he watched with glittering diamond eyes as a small amount of tension began to ease out of Severus' shoulders, joined by a deep sigh.

"I cannot fathom why she infuriates me so," he murmured, his back still turned to the other man as he vainly rubbed his temples. "Or why she all of a sudden, takes such obvious pleasure in the act," he added as he finally turned and all but flopped down onto the edge of the desk that had held her belongings moments ago.

"She has fire, spirit, whit and intelligence, all things that you also possess. She is much like you were at that age, young and rebellious, eager to share your knowledge and prove your worth. Frustrated by the imbeciles around you," Lucius said slowly as he pushed away from the doorway and advanced into the room, the light glinting upon the row of intricately carved silver buttons that ran down the front of his frockcoat and matching waistcoat.

"Hmm," Severus grunted noncommittally. It was true he supposed, that if he could look past her ridiculous and thoroughly infuriating Gryffindor tendencies and paltry taste in friends, that she was perhaps, just a little bit like himself. But then again, he was not typically known to be introspective, or to look past long held grudges, no matter how asinine or juvenile they might be.

"I will say though," Lucius continued as he moved with feline grace around the large desk, his steps slow and sensual across the stone, "she does look positively delectable when she is spitting angry. Ah, the fire in those eyes, and the tension in those long creamy limbs. Delicious."

"I would call her limbs neither long, nor creamy," Severus spat reflexively, his temper still too close to the surface for him to compliment the girl. "She is short, freckled and pasty."

"As if that were not the cauldron calling the teakettle black, Severus," Lucius crooned, now standing in front of his companion.

"I am not short, and you know for a fact that there is not a single freckle upon my person," he replied with a snort, finally looking up into Lucius' face. The expression that he found there, deep in the wintry coolness of his eyes, was one of deeply burning hunger, and sad resignation. "You cannot stay, I presume?" he asked a moment later, a faint hint of longing reflected in his voice.

"Alas, no. Narcissa demands my attention this evening."

"What an _inconvenience_ for you," he replied sourly, ever weary of sharing his friend and lover with that insipid cow.

"Indeed, it can be such a chore to appease that woman's wishes, but unfortunately, as her husband it is my duty. Shall I return tomorrow?" he asked, eager to set their plan to ensnare Hermione Granger into action.

"No, dear friend. I believe it best to begin on my own, our combined talents may be too much for her to bear," Severus replied, his sudden weariness smothering all excitement he felt at their wicked plot.

"You just want to keep all of the fun to yourself," Lucius pouted most deliciously, his full lower lip jutting out petulantly.

"Perhaps," he replied with a hint of a smirk curving his own lips. "Call it punishment for leaving my bed cold tonight."

With a deep and throaty chuckle, Lucius bent towards the dark man, his silken pale tresses sliding against the smooth brocade of his frockcoat to slither along Severus' black clad shoulder. A feather soft brush of his lips and a gentle caress of his fingers later, he straightened and bid Severus a fond farewell before gliding back into the Potion Master's chambers to floo back to Malfoy Manor.

For several long and silent minutes, Severus remained perched on the edge of the student desk, his hands lying slack in his lap as he pondered the night's events and just how on earth he was going to seduce the fiery tempered Miss Granger. By Merlin, what spirit she had, and what pleasure he would take in bending it to his wishes. Lucius was right, he did intend to take much enjoyment in the following evening's detention.


	4. Chapter 4

Well, here is another chapter for you all. Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed, I love getting those little gems in my mailbox! Poor Hermione, life just isn't fair, is it?

* * *

Sunlight poured sharp and unbidden through the crack in the heavy scarlet curtains in the Head Girl's room, slicing across Hermione's bed and alighting upon her eyelids. With a deep groan she rolled onto her other side, putting her back to the window as she burrowed down deeper into the heavy warmth of her blankets. A low and keening mewl of protest resounded from somewhere in the vicinity of her knees as Crookshanks voiced his own protests for being roused too early. However, being at least somewhat related to the feline species, he decided that this was as good a time as any to demand sustenance and lots of ear scratching. Rising onto his bandy legs with an impressive arch of his back, he slowly moved up the bed towards the bushy mass of hair still visible above the covers. 

Several carefully placed prods of his paw and head-butts later, Hermione growled through a jaw-breaking yawn and threw back the covers, the large Kneazle leaping out of the way with the grace of a dancer, to land almost soundlessly upon the floor. Promptly sitting back on his rather rotund haunches, he watched his mistress sit up and swing her bare legs over the edge of the bed, pausing for several minutes to vigorously rub her face in a vain attempt to sweep the cobwebs from her mind.

"I'm up, I'm up," Hermione grumbled as she rose to her feet, the hem of the oversized t-shirt hanging around mid thigh, her petite toes curling reflexively as they settled upon the chilly stone floor._Endless reservoirs of magic, and they can't even warm the bloody floors,_ she grumbled mentally as she yawned once more before padding groggily across the room towards her desk. Her progress to her desk and with food in hand towards Crookshanks' empty bowl was only marginally impeded by the furry beast weaving in and out of her legs, his bottle brush tail tickling the backs of her knees.

With Crookshanks now happily eating with gusto and a considerable amount of noise, Hermione collapsed back onto the edge of her bed, curling her legs up towards her as she pulled the thick blankets up to her chin and nestled down into her pillows. Unfortunately, there is no rest for the wicked, virtuous or otherwise either for that matter, and a mere five minutes later there was a thunderous pounding upon her door joined by a young male voice raised loud enough to be heard through the three inches of wood.

"Come on 'Mione! Hurry up or you'll be late for breakfast!"

"Yeah, 'Mione, get out of bed lazy bones. You said you would watch us practice today," Harry added seconds later, laughter coloring his voice.

For a moment, she considered ignoring the boys and simply going back to sleep, but when the pounding upon her door, and their jovial jeering did not relent, she heaved a sigh of frustration and flung back the blankets with a faint snarl.

Padding across the floor with purpose, too tired and irritated to acknowledge the cold seeping into her feet, she wrenched open the door and stared down the two boys. For a moment they stared open-mouthed at her, caught off guard by the even more unruly state of her hair that was presently a sleep tangled mess of curls that stuck up in a variety of gravity-defying directions, the deep scowl upon her face, and the t-shirt that perhaps didn't cover enough of her blossoming body emblazoned with a large penguin on the front and a tag-line that read "I vant to suck your blood."

Harry quickly averted his eyes and coughed awkwardly to hold back his laughter, while Ron stood beside him, continuing to stare at Hermione's exposed legs, a deep flush of scarlet infusing his cheeks and ears.

"What do you want?" she demanded, a growl barley held back from the edges of her voice as she glowered at the suddenly sheepish duo.

"We err… thought you might want to get some breakfast," Ron stammered, his eyes still fixedly focused on her legs, occasionally darting upwards to ponder the interesting swell in the area of her chest.

"Yeah, it'll all be gone soon," Harry added as he elbowed Ron in the ribs, repressed laughter still lingering on the tip of his tongue.

"I'm not hungry," she spat instantly, the validity of her statement undermined a second later by a loud grumble from her stomach, which brought an instant snicker from both boys. The warm sound of their laughter managed to put a damper on her mounting annoyance and push a few of the cobwebs from her mind. Rolling her eyes, and reining in a dark scowl that would have been far too reminiscent of the Potions Professor, she waited for their chuckles to die down before saying,

"Give me ten minutes to get dressed. I'll meet you in the common room."

"It's okay, you can come dressed like… ow! What was that for?" she heard Ron saying as she closed the door, the sound of their footsteps retreating down the hallway.

Fifteen minutes later, Hermione emerged into the common room, Harry and Ron occupying a couple of the armchairs in front of the empty fireplace playing a game of Exploding Snap. Except for the boys, the room was completely deserted, everyone else presumably already at breakfast or still in bed like she wished she was. Sweeping past them with barely a glance or a greeting she crawled through the portrait hole and emerged in the hallway beyond, her shoulders stiff and her brain feeling decidedly fuzzy.

"Hey wait up, 'Mione!" Ron called as he and Harry stumbled out into the hallway a matter of seconds later, coming to her side in then span of a few long strides. "What's with you this morning?" he continued as he fell into step beside her, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, Harry flanking her other side as if they were bodyguards.

"Nothing, I'm just tired," she replied automatically, yawning widely for emphasis as they proceeded down the hallway towards the maze of staircases leading down to the Great Hall.

"Rough night again?" Harry asked a touch somberly, sympathy shinning in his bright green eyes.

"Yeah," she replied sullenly, the bitter rage from the previous night still streaming through her system, though slightly diminished by a night's worth of mostly restful sleep.

"Snape?"

"What did the git do now?" Ron cut in defensively, a flush of indignation already suffusing his cheeks. It was cute in a way, his burning desire to defend her at every turn, and yet sometimes, his Knight-In-Shinning-Armor complex just made her want to smack him. This was one of those times.

"Nothing more than the usual," she murmured in reply, unwilling to let either of them know exactly what had transpired, or just how much he seemed to be getting to her lately.

"Come on, 'Mione. It can't have been just his usual sneering to get you so worked up," Harry countered. That boy was far too perceptive for his own good sometimes. Rather than voicing a reply she simply shrugged her shoulders, the same noncommittal response she had given the man in question the night before.

"It's alright, you can tell us," Ron said softly, his large warm hand a sudden unwelcome weight upon her shoulder. The last thing she wanted from either one of them was pity.

Sighing heavily, she stepped onto the first step of the stairway that lurched into motion as soon as Harry and Ron joined her, both of them reclining against the opposite railing, looking at her with concern and affection obviously evident in their gazes.

"I got another detention," she murmured, her head bowed as she toyed idly with a loose curl of hair that brushed annoyingly at the nape of her neck.

"What?" they exclaimed in unison, eyes wide and disbelieving.

"Sheesh, Hermione! What did you do?" Harry asked incredulously while Ron could do nothing except stand and stare in shock.

"I might have said some things I shouldn't have," she replied in little more than a whisper, her eyes still downcast as she studied the dull shine of her shoes. "But I can't help it! He's just so… so… infuriating!" she exclaimed with a deep exhalation as she stepped down from the stairs and stood before the partially open doors to the Great Hall. "The great big git just ruffles my feathers and gets me all twisted and knotted up until I don't know up from down. He's such a bastard, strutting around this place as if he owns the place, acting like everyone owes him something and should cow down to his wishes," she ranted, a feeling of freedom settling upon her shoulders as she said several things she had been dying to say over the years.

Unfortunately, so enveloped was she in her tirade, that she failed to see the expressions of awe upon her best friend's faces transform into ones of horror, their faces blanched of all color and stricken with an almost palpable fear.

"Umm 'Mione…" Harry attempted to interject, panic constricting his face into an ugly grimace.

"No Harry, I can't hold it back any longer. I have to say it – Severus Snape is a pompous, arrogant, childish and pathetic prick who needs to be hexed into next Thursday!"

"I believe, Miss Granger," a cool and purring voice began at her ear, so cold that it sent rippling shudders gliding down her spine as if someone had dropped an ice cube down the back of her sweater. "That that little tantrum brings the total to six. My, my, what a little firecracker you have become," he continued, the closeness of him like a solid heat at her back.

Spinning sharply on her heel to face him, Hermione barely had the foresight to take several steps backwards and avoid colliding with his chest. In the instant that her eyes met his, she felt all of the anger and bitterness recede, leaving a feeling of dread lying in the pit of her stomach, effectively erasing her appetite with a wave of nausea.

"Shall I simply leave my schedule open for the rest of the year to allow for your sudden _passion_ for detentions in the dungeons?" he crooned with an arch of a single brow, his thin upper lip curled back with a smug smile.

Unable to trust her suddenly barb-tipped tongue, Hermione could only clamp her jaws shut and stiffly shake her head in reply.

"Are you sure, Miss Granger? I'm certain I can quite easily work you into my schedule," he continued, his voice pitched lower, his lips seeming to caress each word as if it was a decadent promise rather than the threat she knew it to be. Merlin! He was trying to goad her again, to force her to snap and release the fury that felt as if it was blistering beneath her skin.

"No, thank you, Professor," she managed to force out between clenched teeth, her voice rough but still brimming with forced respectfulness.

"Very well, at the usual time then, Miss Granger," he intoned with his usual smug sneer before gliding away in a cloud of billowing robes and aloof arrogance.

"What a bastard!" Ron hissed, but only after he was sure that Professor Snape with no longer within ear shot. Drawing his glowering gaze from the corridor that Snape had disappeared down, he turned to see Hermione visible slump, a deep sigh rolling over her lips as she stared discontentedly at the floor.

"Come on, lets go get some breakfast," Harry offered comfortingly, a soft and gentle hand curling over her shoulder.

"No, you guys go ahead," Hermione muttered dejectedly, still staring at her toes. "I'm not hungry anymore," she continued as she shrugged off Harry's hand and wandered back towards the stairs, wanting nothing more than to collapse into her bed and sulk until it was time to face the sour man once more.

"Are you sure?" Ron called to her retreating back, taking a couple steps towards her.

"Let her go, mate," Harry said in a saddened tone as he laid a restraining hand upon Ron's chest. Together, they stood in front of the Great Hall watching Hermione mount the stairs, trudging back up towards the Gryffindor common room, her head bowed in defeat, their chests tight with the desire to offer comfort to their best friend.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Yes I know, I have been a bad monkey and I'm terribly sorry. As ever, my muse continues to be elusive and flutters in and out of my mind whenever the little wench feels like it. This chapter isn't particularly long but I figured that it was better than nothing and sets the stage for the next step in Severus' plan to seduce the delightful Miss Granger. I hope you all enjoy!_

* * *

Hermione passed the rest of the day holed up in the Head Girl's room, ignoring Ron and Harry's muffled pleas as they filtered through the thick door. Thankfully, the boys didn't have enough brainpower between them to think of using a simple Un-Locking Charm upon her door, and after several failed attempts to get a response out of her, ambled away to play Quidditch with Dean and Seamus. For a while she sat in the deep bay window watching the four small figures flying back and forth over the Quidditch pitch, little more than small flecks of color weaving and swooping around each other. However, once her breath had begun to fog up the glass, and her knees were aching from the small breeze that crept in through the small gaps around the window, she sighed and wandered towards her desk.

She then commenced to do what she normally did when she was agitated or frustrated; she threw herself into her school work with gusto. After all she did have an essay due in Transfiguration in two weeks, and there was that complicated table of figures and runes to complete for Arithmancy. And so the day slipped by quickly, lunchtime sliding past unnoticed as she studied intently, ignoring the brief pangs of hunger in her belly and the ache in her back.

The boys hammered upon her door a few more times throughout the day, but they were effectively dealt with by a Silencing Charm cast upon her door, allowing her to continue in peace and quiet, Crookshanks a comforting weight as he lay beneath her chair, his deep purrs of contentment vibrating through her feet.

It was not until the sun had slipped below the distant horizon and Hermione was forced to light the torches in her room to continue reading, that she realized the lateness of the hour. The small carriage clock perched on the mantle above the fireplace across from the bed read five minutes 'til eight. A nauseating swell of dread rose up in her throat, as Hermione quickly shoved back her chair, rousing a rather disgruntled Crookshanks in the process.

"Shite! I'm going to be late," she hissed as she began rummaging in her trunk for her jumper and a pair of socks. "Bloody hell, he's never going to let me hear the end of this," she continued to rant and rave as she perched on the edge of her bed and began pulling on her socks followed by her plain school shoes, unwilling to take the time to dig her trainers out from under the bed.

Five minutes later Hermione was flying down the stairs two at a time, thankful that for once the staircases decided to stay in place and not impede her descent. Her robe trailed behind her in a stream of black, while her backpack hung precariously from her shoulder as she tried to brush the hair from her eyes all the while muttering under her breath just how unfair life was. Breathless and flushed, she arrived ten minutes later outside the door to the potions classroom, a thin layer of sweat clinging to her brow and making her regret the choice of her thick jumper. Pausing for a second to catch her breath she quickly raised her hand to the door and knocked firmly.

"Enter," Severus barked in his usual cold and unwelcoming tone, the door swinging open soundlessly with a simple flick of his wand.

Hesitating for a few labored breaths, Hermione schooled her features to reflect neutrality and calm before stepping into the room, the door swinging shut behind her swiftly, narrowly escaping catching the folds of her robes. Leaping forward a step or two with a barely muffled yelp of surprise, she turned now narrowed eyes on him, a scowl etched deeply into her brow as she shot daggers at her potions professor. The dark man's only response was to arch a single brow at her challengingly while a smug smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Silence stretched out between the pair for what seemed like painfully long minutes, Hermione glaring with all the hatred she had built up over the past few days, while Severus returned her glare with an expression of serene smugness.

"It may be the weekend, Miss Granger, but I still expect you to attend detention dressed appropriately," Professor Snape crooned as she finally turned away from him and settled her book bag on the table and once again slung her outer robe over the back of a chair. "Tsk, tsk, how unruly you have become of late. I believe that the total is now eight," he continued with a dark purr of malicious glee.

"Eight!" Hermione exclaimed, rounding on her heels to face him, her face instantly full of embarrassed and infuriated heat, her eyes gleaming like perfectly polished pieces of dark amber. "It's only seven," she added a moment later through clenched teeth, valiantly attempting to hold her anger in check, that was why she was in this mess after all.

"No, Miss Granger. Seven for being late, and eight for your lack of appropriate dress," he explained, the smug smile upon his face spreading until he looked like the cat that got the cream, his hand moving in a lazy movement to gesture towards the clock upon the wall that clearly said it was twelve minutes after eight.

A deep sigh rolled over her lips as her shoulders slumped in resignation, there was no way she could talk her way out of it, he was unfortunately completely within his rights to saddle her with two additional detentions. But did he have to do it while exuding a swell of triumphant arrogance? Biting the inside of her cheek, causing her eyes to water, Hermione resolutely kept her lips clamped together, refusing to sink to his level and verbally flay him in the manner that he most assuredly deserved. Instead she dipped her head in a small show of acknowledgement and murmured,

"I apologize, Professor, you are right." Her seemingly mild response garnered the arching of a single dark brow in reply, the look of challenge that he apparently always had on standby to throw in her face.

Turning her back to him she rolled up the sleeves of her jumper and moved to the sink that had almost become synonymous with Professor Snape's detentions in her mind. Just as she had the night before, she placed the empty bucket in the sink and turned on the water spigot, watching in an almost numb haze as freezing cold water began pounding the bottom of the bucket in a dull tattoo.

So ensconced was she in her own sullen thoughts, Hermione did not hear the slow and stealthy approach of the bitter professor as he moved to stand behind her. It wasn't until she felt the cool tip of his wand sliding against the rough wool of her jumper that she became aware of his presence so unnervingly close. A small squeak of surprise and perhaps a hint of twisted excitement bubbled over her lips as an equally cool hand slid down her right arm, strong fingers curling around her wrist.

"I believe, Miss Granger, that there is still the matter of your manner of dress to be dealt with," Severus said slowly, his voice pitched barely above a whisper as he all but curled his tall and slender frame around her own shorter and softer one. Warm tendrils of his breath snaked across her cheek as he dipped his head towards her ear, his rich and masculine scent mixing with Hermione's delicate and sweet fragrance.

A tingling shudder rippled through the flesh of her cheek beneath the heat of his breath while the rest of her body grew stiff as a board with tension and confusion. The muscles in her calves trembled with the desire to flee while her lungs burned with the need to scream her frustration and lingering anger.

"Professor?" she asked, the single word encompassing all of her confusion, trepidation and resentment for the man who now stood uncomfortably close.

However, rather than answering her softly stuttered question, Severus continued to allow the tip of his wand to slide over the coarse fabric of her jumper while uttering a whispered incantation. He could feel the subtle trembling of Hermione's body as the faint traces of magic tickled her skin and caused goosebumps to rise along the bare flesh at the back of her neck. In a brief moment her dark burgundy jumper and slim legged jeans dissolved into the standard Hogwarts uniform, complete with irritatingly constricting tie, though the shirt was perhaps a size too small and the skirt a few inches shorter than school regulation. This of course, was no mistake on his part, and entirely intentional as it would emphasize the blossoming swell of her bosom and the deliciously creamy length of her bare legs.

"Far more appropriate," Severus intoned with decadent smugness as he lingered close a moment or two longer, peering over her stiff shoulders to admire the sight of her breasts straining against the flimsy white cotton of her shirt, a small flash of pale pink lace visible as the fabric gaped around the buttons with each breath she took. _How perfectly innocent and tantalizing_, he thought to himself as he received another glimpse of the delicate lace as she breathed in once more.

Stepping back from Hermione, Severus paused to admire his handiwork and the tantalizing view that it afforded him before stating in his usual cool and no-nonsense tone, "You may continue, Miss Granger."

"Yes, Professor," she ground out angrily, her shoulders all but vibrating with her desire to turn and smack him sharply across the face. However, rather than giving into the temptation to commit bodily harm against the cruel man, Hermione resettled her shoulders and shook her head resolutely before refocusing on her task, purposely ignoring the ghost of a tremor that lingered on her skin where the tip of his wand had touched her.

Sweeping away from the girl, Severus returned to his broad desk, a large stack of pathetic essays from his third year class awaiting the scathing mark of his quill. If he was perfectly honest with himself though, he knew he would not be able to accomplish any marking with her in the room, the cinnamon cloud of her hair shaking with each vigorous scrub of the brush in her hand, her hips twisting and swaying with the effort to remove whatever disgusting mess had congealed in the bottom of the cauldron.

Seated in the comfort of his old and favorite chair behind the wide expanse of his desk, Severus watched Hermione intently, unabashed in his perusal of her form and the way that the torches in the room highlighted the curve of a breast her, the length of a calf there. He could not however, help but ponder that perhaps the old adage was true, that you did indeed get more bees with honey than vinegar, or Gryffindors as the case may be. From his vantage point at his desk he could clearly see the stiff set of her shoulders, the subtle movement of muscles in her cheeks as she ground her teeth in barely restrained ire and the contact movement of her lips as she muttered a dozen obscenities under her breath.

It would appear that the Potions Master was in need of some honey.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Hey folks, thanks for all of the wonderful reviews you have been sending my way! Each one is like a precious little gem. Sorry I didn't get this chapter up sooner, but I was having a wonderful (if not relaxing) vacation in Las Vegas and didn't have access to my computer. Hopefully the somewhat steamy nature of this chapter will more than make up for the delay though. I hope you all enjoy! And please, please, please review :)

* * *

For several long moments, Severus continued to watch Hermione, her shoulders stiffened in barely suppressed anger as she ferociously scrubbed the cauldron before her, her hands and arms soaked to the elbows, the rolled cuffs of her shirt damp and grimy from the freezing water that grew ever more disgusting with each moment. Even from his distant seat at his desk he could hear her angry mutters, her voice growling and deep as she berated him mercilessly, a string of faint profanities falling from her sweet lips.

Holding back his chuckles of amusement at her creative and rather inventive suggestions of just where he should stick his wand, Severus rose to his feet in fluid silence, his shadow stretching across the flagstones like a hungry snake inching ever closer to her. Sliding around his desk on silent feet, he approached her slowly, each step measured and languid as he drew closer to his unknowing prey. It was not until Hermione had emptied the bucket of its foul smelling water and had filled it once again, that Severus decided to set his plan into motion.

As Hermione began to heft the now full bucket out of the sink he stepped close to her, his shadow falling over her ominously. A minute flick of his wand caused her balance to waver for a second as she turned towards him, surprise evident in her wide eyes as they rose to his face and her grasp upon the bucket faltered. Seconds later a high pitched squeal of shock echoed throughout the room as the bucket up-ended itself and cold water splashed upon the stone floor.

"Merlin! How careless of me," Severus all but purred as he gazed down at the sopping wet witch in front of him. Her cheeks were deliciously flushed from her vigorous scrubbing of a dozen disgusting cauldrons, the loose tendrils of her hair that had escaped the tightly wound bun lay moist and tightly curled against her cheek and the side of her throat, each feather soft curl begging for the touch of his anxious fingers. The alluring manner in which her chest heaved with shocked and stuttering breaths, certainly did nothing to spoil the spectacle before him either. Severus mentally applauded himself on his daring act of transforming her casual clothing into a slightly too small version of the school uniform. The water soaked cotton of her shirt clung closely to her skin, the soft pink of her bra clearly visible through the almost transparent fabric.

Apparently still completely overcome by the shock of having an entire bucket of frigid water dumped down her front, Severus watched with dark glee as Hermione did little more than stare up at him in shock, her mouth opening and closing in an entirely all too enticing manner.

"I… I…" Hermione stammered witlessly, unable to find words to express the shock that buzzed through her veins as icy cold as the water that now soaked through her clothing. A multitude of goose bumps rose up all over her flesh, marching across her stomach and down her arms like a torrent of prickling ants.

"My sincerest apologies, Miss Granger," he continued in a dulcet murmur, his voice dropping an octave or two as he stepped ever closer, his shadow falling over the poor girl who had not yet begun to shiver from the cool air in the dungeon room. That was of course, an easy situation to remedy.

A subtle flick and swish of his wand behind his back caused the temperature in the room to slowly plummet until even he was working to restrain the shivers that threatened to jar the muscles in his back while a line of goosebumps marched up his spine. The other professors, and even a handful of brave, or stupid as the case may be, students had frequently derided him for wearing such thick robes when they espied him around the castle. However, if any of them had actually spent more than five minutes in the dungeons, they would soon discover the benefits of his thick woolen robes as they sat shivering and sniffling in the cold and dank subterranean rooms.

Severus knew the exact moment when his Cooling Charm wrapped its icy fingers around Hermione; a sudden inhalation of breath sucked in through her teeth as they began to chatter, her water wrinkled fingers quickly moving to attempt to rub warmth into her upper arms, while a pair of matching small protrusions appeared on the front of her shirt. Perfect. Things were moving along quite nicely it would seem. The next step however, would be far more tricky and require artful manipulation and timing, a task that for a master Slytherin such as himself would require little effort, but still, Severus had to remind himself to be patient, not to rush things lest he send the poor girl screaming through the dungeons convinced that her professor had finally snapped and was about to go "postal" as the Americans say.

"So cold," Hermione whispered in a shuddering breath as she continued to rub vigorously at her arms, all but jumping up and down on the spot in an attempt to muster up some warmth. However, her efforts were all to no avail as the cold seemed to only intensify with each small movement that she made, painful fingers of cold sliding over her skin as fluidly as an ice cube, curling around her ribs and gliding down her thighs.

"Come along now, let us get you warmed quickly. I dare say your Head of House would be none too pleased if I returned you on death's door," Severus intoned in that same fluid and silken tone, his large hands curling gently around her shoulders as he steered her shivering form away from the dropped bucket and spreading puddle of water.

Slowly, they advanced across the room towards the shadowed doorway that led into Severus' private quarters, Hermione's mind too full of shock and cold for her to move quickly, her limbs sluggishly responding to his gently cooing commands. Distracting her with a soft circular motion of his hand upon her back, Severus muttered the password to his wards, feeling them fall briefly as an almost visible shimmering of the air around them, and then he swiftly ushered her into the room beyond.

Severus' chambers were far from the fanciful opulence of the Headmaster's office, but neither did they resemble the cool and emotionless dormitories that all the students were forced to share with each other. The overarching theme was one of masculinity and refinement, dark woods complimented by muted colors.

As was to be expected, a large ornately carved desk dominated the far wall of his living room, its surface filled with several leather-bound journals, scrolls and missives, and a silver ink well and holder that held a handful of sleek black feathered quills. A single elegant brass lamp with a multi-colored glass shade took up one corner, casting a ring of warm golden light upon the desk and comfortable looking leather chair behind it. To the left of desk stood a large fireplace built of rough hewn bricks that had grown smooth with the passage of time, a small fire flickering to life in the grate as Severus waved his hand almost thoughtlessly towards it.

On the other side of the fireplace was an old but sturdy looking coat rack, a simple black traveling cloak and dark grey scarf draped over one hook, and a pair of well worn black boots standing at its base. A narrow umbrella stand was placed to the left of it, the smooth wooden handle of an umbrella protruding from the top. Directly in front of the coat rack was a long and low settee, the dark fabric covering reflecting muted browns, greens and oranges that could be seen throughout the rest of the room in an old tapestry here, or an oil panting there. It's plush and comfortable looking cushions beckoned to Hermione as Severus urged her towards it, guiding her down into the center of the settee.

Bending over the dark cherry coffee table in front of the settee, Severus swept his hand over the simple china tea set arranged on a slightly burnished silver tray, a small swirl of steam rising up out of its spout a few moments later.

"Cream and sugar, Miss Granger?" he asked, adding one lump and a splash of cream at her stuttering nod, her fingers out of sight somewhere beneath her arm pits as she continued to shiver almost violently. Casting a Spill-Proof charm on the small cup, he passed it to her, watching with a small glimmer of amusement as her hands quickly emerged from the vicinity of her elbows and grasped the china cup. A soft sigh emanated from her lips as the warmth of the tea began seeping into her trembling fingers.

Foregoing his own usual evening cup of tea, Severus perched on the edge of the coffee table as she slowly sipped the steaming liquid, a look of bliss smoothing the lines in her face. Once he was certain that Hermione was sufficiently relaxed, knowing that the small amount of Calming Draught he always added to his tea would help things along, he reached out with long slender hands and grasped her right foot, drawing it up into his lap.

A sudden tremor of tension rippled through her body, evident in the tensing of her ankle and shoulders, her previously half-lidded eyes snapping open as they locked onto his face.

"Relax, Miss Granger. As I said, I cannot permit you to catch your death while in my care, and sitting around in wet socks, will certainly not help your cause," he murmured in a voice that was low and soft, just loud enough for her to hear over the crackling of the fire. "May I?" he added a few seconds later as the tension began to ease out of her body once more due to his own special blend of tea.

Nodding her head subtly, Hermione watched through the thick ring of her lashes as his nimble fingers made short work of her shoelaces, one had curled around her ankle, a single digit brushing the skin just above the cuff of her sock, while the other hand gently eased the shoe from her foot. With equally deft movements, he removed her sodden sock, laying it out flat to dry next to the shoe he had set aside on the floor in front of the fire. Reflexively she curled her toes, testing the warmth of the air, and finding it sufficient to not overly worry herself about putting her grubby, once white sock on again.

Leaving her foot settled in the crook of his hip, Severus bent and gathered the other into his lap, repeating his actions with the same amount of tenderness and subtle seduction, a faint smile of triumph curving his lips as he trailed one tapered finger over the arch of her left foot, eliciting a girlish squeak and full-body squirm.

_Mmm, like putty in my hands_, Severus mused to himself, hiding the smirk that lingered at the corners of his mouth with a shallow dip of his head, the curtain of his dark hair easily casting a shadow across his face. Not that he was worried her poor little potion idled brain would pick up on his small moment of weakness.

Once he was certain that she was settled once more, and had been plied with another cup of his particular brew, Severus decided that it was time he stepped things up a notch. The careful dance of relaxation had of course been necessary, but he was eager to lay his hands upon her creamy flesh, though he would be damned if Lucius ever heard him refer to her as such.

Carefully laying both of his hands on a respective ankle, he waited for the residual tension to flow out of her in a single deep breath, before his fingers began their slow and languorous procession up her calves. The warmth of the nearby fire had begun to dry her skin, though it was still cool to the touch and decorated with a plethora of goosebumps that rose to greet his fingers. He supposed the chill lingering in her flesh would be enough of a discomfort for his next step to go off without a hitch. And so it did.

Leaning towards her to extend the reach of his hungry fingers, Severus let a small amount of magic infuse his touch, nothing more malicious than a simple cooling spell, but strong enough to amplify the cold that already permeated her skin. A small jolt of satisfaction shot down into his gut as he watched Hermione shiver, her bottom lip curling inwards and becoming a prisoner of her anxious habit. The whiteness of her teeth only aided in intensifying the deep rosy hue of her full lips, the tip of her tongue snaking out a moment later to moisten them. Another electrifying tingle rippled through him at that tiny glimpse of her tongue, one that had nothing at all to do with triumph. There was a soft hitch in her breath as Severus' fingers curled around her knees, long and probing fingers caressing the tender skin behind them.

"Are you still cold?" he murmured, looking up at her through the fall of his inky hair, the firelight making the smattering of grey appear as threads of fine spun gold.

"Yes," Hermione replied, another deep shiver joining her words as he sent another pulse of cold spreading through her, her toes curling delightfully in the space between his hips and elbows.

"I had hoped that the tea and fire would be enough," he said, filling his voice with convincing concern and gentleness. He had not fooled the Dark Lord and Albus both all these years without being a damned good actor. "But I fear that other steps may be required," he added, a touch of regret and hesitation threaded into his voice as he dipped his head shallowly as if embarrassed.

"Whatever you think is necessary, Sir," she replied as if on cue, two matching faint spots of pink appearing high on her cheeks. Merlin, he was good.

"I think that perhaps we might be forced to take other steps to ensure your health," he mumbled almost incoherently as his fingers danced over the curve of her knees, barely touching in the softest of caresses, her legs trembling beneath his touch as if in answer to his suggestion. "I would quickly send you back to your common room if I did not fear that the coldness of the castle might do you harm before you reach your destination," he added quietly as if he was abhorrent to personally removing any article of clothing from a student.

Another nod of her head, and he could feel his trap ready to snap shut around her. However, drawing a steadying breath in through his nose he paused for a moment to rein in his eagerness, once again hiding his own face in shadow as though he were mortified at what he was about to do.

Relinquishing his grip upon her left knee for a moment, he plucked the empty cup from her grasp and placed it back upon the tray with a faint _clink_.Cradling both of her knees, he pulled her slowly towards him until the curve of her bum was perched on the edge of the settee, the action drawing the hem of her skirt ever higher up her deliciously pale thighs. With her knees now bent on either side of his chest, he allowed his hands to slowly skim along the outsides of her knees, up to her thighs where they trailed along the hem of her skirt, before flowing over the swell of her hips.

Again, her breath hitched in a most delicious way, a tremor of excitement fluttering in the pit of his stomach, and lower. Like a pair of tentatively exploring snakes, his skillful fingers caressed the softness of her hips, following the seams of her skirt to the creases at the tops of her thighs, the movement causing her stomach to tighten.

Waiting the span of several heartbeats for her to sink back down into the blanket of calm that he had cast around her with the sly use of potions and teasing caresses, he continued to watch her through the fall of his hair, his eyes hungrily drinking in the sight of her. Faint shivers still flowed through her body like one sluggish wave after another, crashing against the shore and sending the vibrations up into his hands like an artfully crafted spider's web. The soft flush of pink lingered on her cheeks, darkening her freckles to appear like tiny fairy footprints upon her otherwise pale skin. Her hair shone as a fine nimbus around her face in the flickering firelight, golden and ethereal. She was quite simply in that moment, utterly breathtaking.

Slowly, his fingers resumed their movement, swirling in a nonsensical pattern upon the tops of her thighs, dipping down into the shallow crease where her hips and pelvis met, the heat of his fingers belying the cooling charm that he continued to pump into the damp fabric of her skirt. A shuddering breath flowed through her partially open lips, the air shifting around him as it seemed to melt over his skin in a delicately fragrant cloud. By Merlin, he wanted to ravage her right then and there, her knees draped over his shoulders, her back arched upon the settee with the firelight glistening upon her sweat dampened skin.

A resolute shake of his head quickly pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind, allowing him to resume his focus upon the task at hand. This was not something that he could rush into like a randy teenager. No, this would require all of his skill and patience in the ancient art of seduction. Thankfully, it was an art he had mastered when he was young, and merely continued to improve upon as he progressed into maturity. Lucius was perhaps the only other man he knew of that could match his own form of dark and delicious temptation. There were doubtlessly others who could easily lure a woman to tumble in their beds, but what he did was no simple romp in the hay. His own special brand of seduction was in and of itself absolute perfection.

Once more through the haze of his own lashes, Severus watched the firelight dance over the young witch before him, the long and graceful arch of her legs drawing his eyes upwards to where his fingers skimmed over the wool of her skirt, delicately teasing the warming flesh beneath. He could feel the quivering of her claves against his ribs, the tensing of her thighs vibrating through his own, and the fluttering of her belly echoing down into his fingers. By Merlin, he had never imagined she would be so responsive to his touch, he had hoped of course for such a seemingly willing witch, but had not expected her to open to him like a flower so soon.

Feeling his own resolve growing ever more strained at the close proximity to the delightful witch, Severus subtly shifted his position to ease the pressure of his swelling member trapped in the confines of his trousers. A heavy pool of heat lay coiled in the pit of his stomach, throbbing slowly with each shuddering breath that flowed over her lips, the sweet scent of her breath curling around his face and invading the recesses of his mind. Sliding smoothly from his perch on the coffee table, Severus knelt in front of the settee, Hermione's knees now tucked securely beneath his armpits while her center rested mere inches from his own straining cock. He felt as much as heard the sudden hitch in her breathing as the soft wool of his robes teased the flesh of her inner thighs, her too short skirt providing little in the way of modesty in her current position.

"Professor…" she began falteringly, a slight lilt to her voice implying there was a question lying in wait behind her words.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" he purred in reply, straightening as he leant over her, the slight swell of his stomach almost pressing against her heat, a subtle writhing of her hips a clear indication of the arousal rising within her, as was the faint but wholly intoxicating scent rising from between her legs.

"Are… are you sure… this… is appropriate?" Hermione asked in a quavering voice, her eyelids fluttering heavily as she tried to watch him through the haze of her growing desire.

"You are of age, are you not?" Severus replied in a tone as smooth and sumptuous as silk, the sound of it sliding over her skin like a physical caress.

"Yes," she replied in a near sigh as his fingers resumed their subtle seduction, tracing the waist of her skirt for several long moments before slipping under her shirt through the space between two buttons. The muscles in her stomach instantly tensed beneath his confident touch, her back arching in a most delicious fashion as the back of her head pressed more firmly into the cushions around her.

"In that case, I see no problem," he purred, leaning further over her until his tall frame blocked out all of the light from the fire, her liquid amber eyes continuing to gleam before him. "Unless of course, you would like me stop. Do you want me to stop, Hermione?" Severus continued to whisper as he removed one hand from her waist to brace himself against the back of the settee. Fluidly he curled himself over her until little more than a couple of feet remained between them, the temperature in the small cocoon of his robes quickly rising as she gazed up into his shadowed face.

"I… I don't think so…" Hermione murmured in little more than a whisper as she met his gaze, her dark amber eyes appearing as smoldering embers in the darkness, her breath flowing over his face in a soft exhalation as the muscles of her stomach tensed once more beneath his touch. Another languid arch of her back brought her ever closer to him, her legs instinctively tightening their grasp upon him, pressing into his ribs as two points of burning heat. As her head rolled back against the cushions of the settee, Severus moved his free hand up over her hip to her ribs before circling it around to lay against the small of her back as a pool of comforting warmth.

"So sweet, so soft," he mumbled softly as he dipped his head towards her, the heat between them almost stifling while the wild tendrils of her hair tickled his cheek and brow. An almost unperceivable fragrance rose from the nape of her neck, a subtly sweet and yet musky combination of vanilla and lavender that aroused his keen sense of smell and caused his own stomach to tighten in desire. A hitching breath whispered past his ear in response to his crooning remark, her knees once again pressing into his sides as if urging him onwards, desperately seeking to draw him closer into the waiting hungry heat of her.

"Shall I stop, Hermione?" Severus prompted again, his voice pitched lower than Hermione had ever heard, his words sliding against her senses like hot velvet as they reverberated down into the pit of her stomach, dancing along her buzzing nerves and igniting several fires within her brain. His huskily spoken question was immediately punctuated with a soft caress of his lips against the highly sensitive skin just beneath her left ear, his tongue snaking out a moment later to tease the same tender spot. Every muscle in her body tensed in that instant, the wet heat of his tongue searing through every incoherent thought fighting for dominance in her brain and tearing a single word from her lips in a high moan,

"Never."


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Here is the latest installment guys... we're finally heating up with these two! I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it :) I am also posting this same story over on Ashwinder, and hopefully it will be up soon. Please read and review!

* * *

Grinning to himself in delight, Severus sank his head further into the crook of her neck, his lips and tongue seeking each delicious inch of flesh available to his growing hunger. While his lips eagerly but slowly began to devour the side of her throat, his long nose nuzzling the soft curls of her hair, his fingers danced up and down her spine at a snails pace, tracing each small curve of her spine from her shoulders to her backside. Fighting to hold back his own groan of desperate pleasure as she began to rock her hips against him in desire, Severus attacked her throat with gusto which in turn brought a series of purring moans rumbling up from her heaving chest.

A startling tremor of electricity shot down Severus' spine and into his loins at the hesitant and soft touch of Hermione's fingers upon his shoulders, each one like a tiny point of burning heat through the thick layers of his robes. Slowly at first, they traced the curves of his shoulders, following the subtle swells and concaves of muscle and bone, growing ever more confident as he growled his approval into the side of her neck.

He was surprised to find himself feeling covetous of her shy touches, each trembling movement of her fingers like a precious gem as the memory of it was burned into his brain. He had no doubts of her innocence and inexperience, nothing more than the pitiful groping of some over hormonal youth in a dark corner of the castle or Grimmauld Place served as her point of reference for such things. Severus had known this when he had begun to hatch this plan, when hazy images of a supplicant Hermione had started to invade his dreams, when the scent of her hair stirred his loins each time she passed him in the classroom or hallway. He had not however, ever imagined that he would relish her innocence so thoroughly and take such great pleasure in bending her to his will. Oh yes, she was indeed to be his most precious prey, the most succulent of victims.

An unbidden and wholly unanticipated growl rolled up from deep in his belly as those same gently teasing fingers flowed up over his collar and into his hair, curling in the feather soft curls at the nape of his neck. Several pounding heartbeats later, it took all of Severus' self control to restrain himself from taking her on the very spot as Hermione's grip upon his hair tightened until she was gripping him almost painfully, threatening to tear his hair from the roots as she pulled his face back from her. A sliver of flickering light from the fireplace crept into the space between them, highlighting the deep rosy hue of her cheeks and the fiery gleam of her eyes as she peered up into his face, her full and glistening lips parted as if in invitation.

"Please," she whispered breathlessly, her heart pounding fiercely in the pulse of her throat and evident in the quaver of her voice as she begged him with her voice and eyes.

"Tell me, Hermione," Severus replied in a deep whisper that was little more than a feral growl, his own desire spiking painfully at her quiet pleading. "Tell me what you want," he prompted a moment later as he fought back another growl as her fingers clenched in his hair once more, a thousand tiny prickles of painful excitement marching across his scalp and down the back of his neck to dance across his spine.

"Kiss me… please," she begged, her voice pitched lower than he would have ever thought possible, a rough and husky cadence to it bringing another surge of anticipation to the surface.

"How could I ever deny such a request?" he purred richly as his head dipped towards her once more, her fingers still firmly curled in his loose hair but allowing him free reign to descend upon her trembling lips. The soft heat of her breath was like a teasing caress upon his face, sliding over his cheeks and skittering across his brow as he drew closer to her waiting mouth.

The first touch of his lips against hers was the briefest of touches, a mere brush of skin upon skin, yet it brought a shuddering breath from her nonetheless, her eyes sliding closed as she arched up towards him, demanding more. As if he were savoring the finest of wines, Severus swept his lips over Hermione's again, tasting her slowly and gently, allowing his lips to curl over and around hers, delighting in the faint tremble beneath his touch.

Another wave of pleasant surprise swept down into Severus' loins as he felt the first hesitant touch of Hermione's tongue darting out to taste his lips, bringing with it the faintly sweet taste of tea and the hidden Calming Draught. Pausing in his own tasting of her, he allowed Hermione's curious mouth to explore him, her inexperienced but wholly inquisitive lips and tongue tracing the swell of his lower lip, delving into the corners of his mouth and enveloping his thin upper lip as if she would devour him from the inside out.

It took every ounce of his strained resolve to hold back and allow her this moment of exploration, to not descend upon her like a pack of ravenous wolves and simply ravage her until she could barely draw breath. Severus could feel the effort of it as the muscles in his back twitched, his fingers clutching the fabric of her shirt against her spine, and the shuddering breaths that shook the corded muscles of his shoulders. Inexperienced she might be, but what she lacked in practical application, Hermione more than made up for in enthusiasm.

A moment later a hissing breath of pleasure and agonized restraint rolled over his lips only to be swallowed by her hungry mouth as her teeth scraped across the tender flesh of his lower lip, her tongue soon replacing her teeth to nurse his abused skin. Sweet Merlin! Perhaps, the young witch was not as unfamiliar with such carnal acts as he had perceived, and yet he had been sure of her innocence, the results of his discreetly cast Purity Charm quite clear. Where on earth had she learnt such skills, he had to wonder. And yet, as her lips and teeth closed around his lip once more, drawing it deep into the wet heat of her mouth, suckling gently upon his flesh, all thoughts of any past transgressions quickly fled from his mind.

Like matching lines of teasing heat, the fingers of one of her petite hands detached themselves from his hair to slide down the side of his neck and over his cheek, cradling his face in her hand as if she were the one seducing him rather than her bending to the will of his desire. How had this happened? How had he so easily succumb to the ministrations of a virgin witch? And why did he not seem to care one whit that she was playing him as expertly as a violin?

Sure, that it was time to reassert his control over the situation, Severus continued to allow Hermione to explore his mouth with an unrivaled delicious slowness, while his own free hand slid down her back to the swell of her backside. The almost silken cotton of her shirt gave way to the coarse wool of her skirt that had become an interesting combination of cool dampness and underlying heat. Cupping the curve of her bottom he carefully gathered the wool into his hand until he felt the first soft touch of her skin against his, his fingers greedily spreading over the flesh of her arse. He felt her stiffen in his embrace, her lips attacking his own with more gusto, as his hand clenched her right cheek. Artfully manicured nails scraped across her delicate and untouched skin, bringing a fresh array of goosebumps to the surface while he swallowed her appreciative moan.

In response to Severus' unexpected caress, Hermione's hips instinctively rose to meet his touch, bringing her belly flush against his and pressing her aching core against the prominent bulge in the front of his trousers. Tearing her mouth from his, the musky taste of him still flooding her tongue, she threw her head back against the cushions of the settee, her grip upon his hair tightening as her other hand descended to clutch the front of his robes. Never in all her years had she ever felt such overwhelming sensations, such rampant heat coursing through every vein and nerve until her entire body felt as if it were being consumed by painless flames.

"More," she heard a distant voice pleading in a pitiful tone full of desperate longing, only to realize a moment later that the voice was her own and she meant it deep down in the very core of her being. There was no way under heaven that she would ever be able to get enough of his intoxicating touch, be able to taste enough of his sweet mouth.

Stars seemed to explode behind her eyes, a sudden rush of heat and almost painful sensation flooding every inch of her skin as she felt those highly skilled fingers sliding down further over the curve of her arse, teasing the tops of her thighs where no man or boy had ever touched, before finally focusing on the one place even she had barely dared to explore. A fresh wave of warmth filled her cheeks a moment later as his fingers danced across the damp fabric of her knickers, the moisture there having nothing at all to do with the dropped bucket that had so effectively soaked her blouse and skirt. No, the sodden state of her underwear was entirely his doing, a renewed surge of moisture rising up to meet his teasing touch as he traced the edges of her swollen lips through the simple cotton.

"Sweet Merlin!" she hissed in a rush of breath, her eyelashes dancing frantically against her burning cheeks as Severus' fingers moved back and forth across the wet crotch of her knickers, each sweep deliberately avoiding the agonizingly throbbing nub that begged for even one brief caress.

Squirming uncontrollably beneath him, the weight of his hips rendering her movements an exercise in futility, she desperately sought to bring his torturous hand into contact with that one spot that she instinctively knew would cause the world to fracture into a thousand pieces around her.

However, Severus also knew what exquisite pleasure such contact would bring, and made sure to keep his fingers moving, always one step ahead of her desperate movements. A series of keening moans rose up in a chorus around him, each one like a fire-hot poker stoking the fires of his own passion and pushing his restraint to its tenuous limits. As each breathy sigh of pleasure bubbled over her sweet and swollen lips, Severus could not help but wonder how much longer he would be able to hold back the ferocious yearning that seemed to sizzle in his blood and set every synapse in his brain alight.

It was the bite that did it, he would later surmise in the cool darkness of his bedchamber with the scent of her still strong upon his fingers and robes. In all actuality however, it was a culmination of events, a combination of Hermione's whimpering moans, the desperate fisting of her fingers in his hair, the demanding pressure of her lips, and the hungry rhythm of her hips against his hand, that finally pushed him over the edge, snapping his hard-won resolve and plummeting him down into the darkness of deviant hunger.

Severus' fingers shook with barely restrained desire as they glided back up over Hermione's hip, his other hand moving down to mirror them as they curled around the waist band of her knickers, guiding them slowly down over the luscious curve of her hips and thighs. Beneath him, she continued to undulate like gently rolling waves of the ocean, a continuous moan flowing from her parted lips in one breath after another. Momentarily leaning back on his heels, he moved her bare feet to his thighs, her toes curling against his trousers as he continued to slip the simple white cotton briefs down her trembling calves and over her ankles. Distracting her with a heated trail of kisses along her knee, Severus discreetly balled her underwear in his hand before slipping them into an inner pocket of his robes.

The deliciously intoxicating scent of Hermione's arousal drifted upwards towards him, light and sweet like a fine perfume, his mouth instantly watering and his hunger for her growing in leaps and bounds. In the flickering light of the fire he could see the dark soft curls in the crux of her thighs, each one glittering with her moisture as if it had been sprinkled with thousands of tiny diamonds. Unconsciously, he licked his lips in anticipation of burying his face in the soft nest of hair, the aroma of her rising around him in a heady cloud while his long skilled tongue delved deep into her wetness, devouring every ounce of ambrosia she let pour forth.

Holding back on his desire for just a moment longer, Severus raised first one of Hermione's legs and then the other, cradling each knee with his shoulders so that the soft expanse of her thighs framed his face, opening her up to him and affording a much better view of what lay ahead.

"What… what are… you… doing?" Hermione stammered as she gazed at him down the length of her own body, her chest rising and falling rapidly, straining the flimsy cotton of her shirt.

A series of sumptuously slow kisses against her knees and inner thighs soon brought a halt to Hermione's quavering question, a long breath hissing past her teeth, the muscles in her thighs trembling and her back bowing in pleasure.

"Hush now, just relax," Severus replied, his cheek pressed against the side of her knee, allowing his breath to whisper across her exposed center as his fingers stroked the backs of her thighs. For several minutes, he remained unmoving, watching her with gleaming dark eyes as the flush in her cheeks deepened ever further, each slow and soft brush of his lips against her thighs bringing a low moan forth from her.

"Have you never had a man taste you before, Hermione?" he murmured moments later, his hands sliding further up the backs of her thighs to cup her arse where he proceeded to gently knead her flesh.

"No," Hermione whispered in response, her eyelids drooping down towards her cheeks, a renewed blush suffusing her face. "I did not think anyone would want to," she confessed a few seconds later lowering her gaze from his in embarrassment.

"I can assure you, my dear, I would like nothing more," Severus countered with a lazy arch of a single dark brow, emphasizing his remark a heartbeat later by slowly lowering his eager mouth towards her. His hot breath rolled over her, stirring up a fresh cloud of her tantalizing fragrance that worked to increase his need to taste her all the more.

A high girlish squeal of surprise and perhaps a hint of pleasure filled the room, drowning out the crackles of the fire, Hermione's body bowing to almost impossible degrees when she felt the first long sweep of Severus' tongue over her moist nether lips. A cascade of electrifying tingles spread out from her core, rippling out towards the far reaches of her body and wiping every intelligible thought from her mind.

"Oh Merlin!" she breathed in shock as she gradually sagged back down onto the settee, Severus' dark and rich laughter caressing her as efficiently as his ever moving fingers. "I never knew…" she continued to ramble, the words dying in her throat as another pass of his tongue brought her to new heights of never before experienced sensation.

"So sweet," Severus muttered through the haze of his passion as he sank deeper into her welcoming warmth, his nose buried in the soft nest of her hair while his tongue lapped greedily at the sweetness pouring forth from her.

A tremor of delight and pride shot down into his stomach and lower at the feel of her legs trembling uncontrollably as they lay draped over his shoulders, the soft skin of her thighs brushing against his cheeks with each small movement. This was heaven, here in the warm cradle of her hips, the scent of her rich in his nose, her moisture dripping like luxuriant honey onto to his questing tongue, and the cooing sounds of her moans filling the air in a cascading symphony of pleasure.

With each passing moment her sighs and whimpers of ecstasy rose in pitch and volume, building up towards a magnificent crescendo that would split the world into glittering fragments. However, as much as he relished the taste of her, Severus was intent to feel her virgin muscles clenching tightly around at least some part of him as he brought her screaming and wailing to the heights of passion. As fluidly as trickling water, his right hand left the warm globe of her backside, skimming along the soft down on the backs of her thighs to the sweltering core where he lapped as eagerly as a starving man. A fierce bucking of her hips and a faltering whimper was all the response that he needed to know that she lay in anticipation of his next move.

Mercilessly teasing fingers traced the fold between her thighs and swollen lips, his knuckles brushing against her damp and fragrant hair in one torturous pass after another until she was all but begging him with body and words to finish the movement. Chuckling deeply to himself, his lips still pressed tightly against her and causing the vibration to flow upwards into her, Severus finally acquiesced to her pleas, two fingers sliding swiftly and easily into the wet heat of her.

A sudden keening moan instantly greeted his ears in response to his action, accompanied by a tightening her thighs against the sides of his face, effectively trapping him in place. Her movements brought another deep and rolling chuckle from him, his fingers now moving with precise and fluid motions, curving slightly to meet the angles of her body. Shifting his position slightly, he finally, much to Hermione's pleasure, brought his artful lips and tongue into contact with the small swollen nub directly above where his fingers moved with ever increasing speed. With less than four sweeps of his tongue against her, it was all over in a great flood of warmth.

"Severus!" Hermione exclaimed in a piercing shriek, her entire body drawn as tight as a bow string, each muscle quivering in response to the seemingly endless waves of ecstasy that swept through her. She was, thankfully, far too enveloped in her own blossoming pleasure to notice the shocked look that constricted Severus' face, a renewed flash of fire dancing in his ebony eyes as he gazed at her in unabashed lust.

Never before had he heard his given name fall from her sweet lips, and as she screamed it aloud in a reverent tone akin to a prayer, he was surprised to find every nerve in his body buzzing in response. A growling moan of pained restraint flowed from his lips as he shifted uncomfortably, the tightness of his trousers surely inflicting harm now as his swollen member begged and screamed for some kind of reprieve. Idly, his free hand dropped down to his lap, lightly squeezing and stroking the twitching bulge in his trousers, giving at least some small measure of relief, the fingers of his other hand still buried deep in her spasming heat.

What seemed like hours later, Hermione's muscles began to loosen, allowing her to sink almost bonelessly into the cushions of the settee, her face florid and glistening with sweat. Long and shuddering breaths caused her chest to rise and fall in sensuous waves, the muscles of her stomach and thighs still quivering with the aftershocks of her orgasm.

"I suppose you're rather pleased with yourself," Hermione managed to murmur with panting breaths, the rest of her mind and body still too enraptured with the buzzing feeling racing along her nerves to truly care what words were falling from her mouth.

"Oh, infinitely so," Severus purred in response as he carefully slid her legs from his slightly aching shoulders, guiding her feet down to rest upon the rug beneath him. "And you, are you pleased?" he continued in the same rich tone as he arched his back sinuously to work out any lingering kinks, and rose up on his knees to lean over her, planting his hands on the settee on either side of her hips.

"Yes, very much so," she replied, another flood of color rising in her cheeks and descending down her neck and into her shirt.

"Good," he murmured approvingly as he leaned towards her, once again blocking out the light of the fire, which had dwindled to a faint glow. "However, I do believe that it is time you headed back to Gryffindor Tower," he added in what could only have been considered a sultry tone as his lips skimmed over the flushed skin of her neck, eliciting another breathy moan.

Lingering a moment longer to allow his breath, pregnant with the scent of her most intimate of places, to skitter across her still sweat dampened flesh, Severus reveled in the faint tremors that continued to course through her every few seconds. Slowly rising from his knees to his full height, he gently pulled Hermione to her feet, supporting her against his chest as she wavered for a minute or two, the world swimming around her in a soft golden haze.

Guiding Hermione to stand in front of the fireplace, he admired the innocent blush that brightened her cheeks, darkening the smattering of freckles there, and intensifying the deep hue of her gleaming eyes. She was almost coquettish in her observation of him, never allowing her eyes to linger on his face for more than a few heartbeats, before casting her gaze to her toes again. Quickly gathering her shoes, and now dry socks, he placed them in her trembling hands and turned her to face the flames, relishing in the feel of her body as a line of heat along the front of his own. Reaching around her, he drew a handful of fine powder from a small earthen-ware jar on the mantle piece, his arm purposely sliding against the swell of her breast as he did so.

"Head Girl's Room," Severus intoned richly as he cast a handful of floo powder into the fireplace, the flames instantly erupting to life once more in a garish green blaze. As the flames settled he turned Hermione to face him, his arms winding easily around her hips, one hand gripping her barely covered backside, drawing another of those delightful little innocent squeals of surprise from her kiss swollen lips. While his hand dropped down to the cleft of her arse, a single digit worming its ways down towards the wetness still covering her thighs, he inclined his head towards her. Claiming her lips in one last searing kiss, his own lips still glistening with her moisture, he deftly slipped his tongue into her mouth to share the taste of her. Another squeak of surprise quickly melted into an expression of appreciation as his questing finger found her damp sex, easily sliding through her wetness and into her up to the first knuckle.

"Please," Hermione purred wantonly against his ravenous lips, her body moving in a series of sinuous waves against him.

"Mmm, as much as I would love to devour you once again, my dear, I fear that even _I_ must occasionally get some sleep," he replied with a rough chuckle that vibrated through his chest and into hers, instantly bringing her nipples into aching peaks.

All but forcefully disentangling her limbs from his, Severus stepped back to admire the sight before him, the eerie firelight gleaming in her glazed eyes as she gazed at him with primal hunger plainly evident upon her flushed face. With deliberate slowness he raised his hand to his lips, her wetness obviously glistening upon his finger. Locking his eyes with hers, his lips curled upwards into a smirk, Severus plunged his finger into his mouth, a deep growl of enjoyment rolling up from the pit of his stomach, the action bringing a matching sound of desperate need from the witch before him.

With an equal amount of teasing slowness, Severus withdrew his finger, his tongue rolling against the roof of his mouth to savor her taste.

"Run along now, my dear," he said as he lowered his hand to his side, his smirk still softening the lines of his face.

"But I…" Hermione began in protest, taking several steps towards him.

"Hush," Severus interrupted, his still damp finger pressing against her lips and effectively silencing her long enough for him to steer her towards the fireplace. "Quickly now," he continued as he gently pushed her into the fire, her face suspended for a moment in the green flames as her tongue slithered out to lick the combined taste of her wetness and his saliva from her lips, and then she was gone, leaving Severus alone in the suddenly hot room.

Exhaling in a deep rush of breath, Severus sagged into the settee, the cushions still warm from Hermione's presence. He had not used even one ounce of Dark Magic on her he mused in silence; he may not have been the blind idiot that Dumbledore was convinced he was, but neither was he as evil as everyone else assumed. Okay, well maybe he _was_ that evil, but still, he had no intentions of forcing Hermione to come to him through Dark Magic. He would accept nothing less than her surrendering to him of her own volition, mostly at least. She was well on her way to becoming ensnared in his web now, a tasty little morsel that he had every intention of enjoying as much as possible.

Gradually pushing away the thoughts of the evening's events, he slowly came back to himself, realizing a minute later that his hand had moved subconsciously to grasp the agonized bulge in his trousers. He could feel the hot and swollen shape of his shaft twitching beneath the soft wool, begging for release, it would however, have to wait a little while longer.

Uncurling his long limbs, he rose to his full height and strode across the room to his desk where he promptly gathered parchment and a fresh quill. Retrieving the simple white cotton knickers that still held the scent and wetness of Hermione upon them from his pocket, he brought them to his nose for one last savoring sniff before quickly penning his letter. A brief while later, he stood at the broad window behind his desk, watching the dark shape of his owl, Socrates, winging off into the night, a small package grasped in his talons.

Golden sunlight spilled heavy and warm across the inlaid marble floor of Lucius' bedroom the next morning, the distant sounds of peacocks cawing in the dawn's early light filtering in through the open French doors. Amidst a lavish mountain of pillows and blankets, Lucius lounged languidly, the rich golden fall of Narcissa's hair splayed across his bare chest and shoulder as she dozed in the crook of his arm.

"Ah, the old bucket trick. You scoundrel," he purred with a rich chuckle that deepened his already sleep roughened voice. A pair of delicate silver framed glasses were perched high on the bridge of his nose, his free hand poised in the air holding the letter that Severus had sent in the small dark hours of the early morning.

"What is it, my love?" Narcissa murmured sleepily as a single delicate hand trailed lazily across her husband's chest.

"Severus sent us a gift, my dear," he replied with a devious smirk curving the corners of his mouth as he plucked a small bundle of white cotton from the parchment wrapping that had accompanied Severus' missive. Raising the fabric to the tip of his nose, Lucius inhaled deeply, a throaty rumble of appreciation bubbling in his throat while his grip upon his wife tightened. "Delicious," he murmured a moment later as he extended the still damp cotton to Narcissa, a softer, lighter moan mirroring his own as she stretched fluidly against him.

"Enchanting," she agreed, her exploring hand sliding downwards over the smooth planes of his stomach, trailing the light dusting of fine golden hairs down to the blanket in his lap. "When will you be joining our dear friend in his exploits?"

"Soon enough, my dear, soon enough," Lucius purred in response as he slowly removed his glasses and rolled towards Narcissa, his diamond eyes sparkling in the sunlight as he grinned at her with fiery hunger. "But for now, I simply wish to exploit my wife," he continued with a daring arch of his brow as he moved over her, his own long white blonde tresses sliding over her exposed breasts and shoulders. A playful and girlish giggle arose from beneath him in reply as her arms wound around his neck pulling him down into her embrace.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Hey everyone! I apologize for the shortness of this chapter, but I have been horribly sick this week and haven't been up to doing much writing. I promise more juiciness and wicked Snape in the next installment. I hope you all enjoy. And as always, pleas read and review!

* * *

Much to the displeasure of Crookshanks, Hermione did not rouse herself from rather graphic dreams until the sun was nearing it

Much to the displeasure of Crookshanks, Hermione did not rouse herself from rather graphic dreams until the sun was nearing its apex, his pleas to be fed having gone unheard all morning. Once the half-kneazel was happily gorging himself at his bowl, Hermione wandered zombie-like into the adjoining bathroom and proceeded to go through her morning routine on automatic-pilot. Memories of the previous evening's events played over and over in her mind like a movie stuck on repeat as she stepped under the warm spray of the shower, a subtle tremor rippling down her spine as she remembered Severus' heated kisses and teasing caresses.

Despite her best efforts, his unusually sultry tone and unexpected actions had haunted her dreams all night, leaving her feeling unfulfilled and far too high strung when she finally awoke. Every inch of her skin felt overly sensitive beneath the soothing water of the shower, her nipples hardening to aching points on her chest, while a fresh surge of moisture took root between her thighs.

Regardless of what her parents and many of her friends thought, she was not entirely unfamiliar with the touch of another. Her few brief explorations in the gloomy garden shed at her parent's house with the neighbor's son, however, paled in comparison to the things that the fearsome Potions Master had made her feel the night before. Never, in all her juvenile fantasies and ponderings, had she ever imagined that there was someone who could incite such fire in her veins, leave her so breathless and begging for just one more kiss, one more caress, one more sweep of his tongue over her…

Shaking her head in an attempt to brush such thoughts from her mind, Hermione reached for the bar of soap and quickly busied herself with lathering her body. Unfortunately, each perfunctionary touch of her own fingers upon her skin brought more memories to the forefront of her mind, each touch feeling so lackluster and alien after Severus' fingers had all but danced over her skin in a seductive tango. Releasing an aggrieved sigh into the room, Hermione laid the soap back upon the small shelf with perhaps more enthusiasm than was entirely necessary, and turned to face the water, allowing it to wash the suds from her body.

All the while, at the back of her mind, a deeply purring voice whispered things she would never have the courage to say aloud, the sound of it within her mind as dark and rich as bitter chocolate.

"For Merlin's sake!" she exclaimed several moments later as she remained bowed beneath the showerhead, the water beating a dull tattoo upon the top of her head and streaming down over her closed eyes. "Pull yourself together woman," she continued to berate herself as she turned in the cascade of water once more, arching her back into the steady stream and tipping her head backwards to soak her tangled mop of hair.

Emerging from the bathroom fifteen minutes later, Hermione paused in front of the full length mirror beside her orderly desk, observing the deep pink flush that covered her from head to foot. In all honestly, she could not blame the brilliant blush entirely upon the hot water from the shower, a certain amount of moisture lingering between her thighs that had nothing at all to do with bathing.

"When did I become such a hormone driven teenager?" she pondered aloud as she continued to study her reflection, her head tilting from side to side as she watched the water from her wet hair trailing down the side of her throat and over her collar bone. Instantly, unbidden images of Severus flooded into her mind.

In her mind's eye she could see him looming behind her, his voluminous black robes framing her in the simple white towel like a delicate Moon Flower in the darkness of night. Long pale fingers curled gently around her shoulders, the imaginary touch of them sending a shiver of excitement and anticipation rippling down her spine and into her suddenly weak knees.

"Hermione," he purred against her ear in the same tone that he had used the night before when whispering his enjoyment and encouragement into her most intimate of places. "Hermione, touch yourself as you would have me touch you," he instructed, his voice soft yet commanding as his reflection in the mirror locked bottomless ebony eyes with her own.

"I… I can't," she whispered in reply, her cheeks flushing ever darker in embarrassment.

"Yes you can," Severus replied evenly, his hands skimming over the damp flesh of her biceps, drawing a line of goosebumps to the surface of her skin. "Show me how to please you, show me where you would have my hands, my lips, my tongue…" he continued to purr, his voice dropping to lower and richer tones with each word until each one was like a corporeal touch gliding against her skin.

As if of their own accord, Hermione watched dumbstruck as her hands rose shakily to loosen the knot in the front of her towel. In a soft whisper like an expectant breath, the towel slipped easily from beneath her arms, gliding over the swell of her breasts and the curves of her hips to pool uselessly at her feet. Early afternoon sun filtered soft and golden in through the partially open curtains beside Hermione's bed, the shafts of light sliding over her exposed skin, warm and soft as a tender caress.

Although she knew it was nothing more than an over-abundance of restless hormones buzzing through her sleep idled brain, Hermione could not deny the overwhelming thrill that ran through her as she gazed into the mirror. He was not real, she knew, and yet the image of Severus standing behind her, his hands trailing up and down her bare arms, felt more real to her in that moment than anything else.

Thoughtlessly, Hermione's hands rose from their position at her sides, dancing feather-soft over her ribs up towards the underside of her breasts. A hesitant breath rolled over her lips, her back arching slightly as her fingers trailed higher, curling reflexively as they cupped the soft mounds of her breasts.

"That's it," the ghost of Severus' voice encouraged within her mind, his tone almost eager as his imaginary reflection watched the movement of her fingers with hungry eyes.

Feeling emboldened by his purring encouragement, Hermione allowed the fingers of one hand to whisper across her nipple, the small dusky pink protrusion quickly hardening beneath her touch until it stood hard and proud like a gem upon her chest, aching for a firmer caress. Biting her lip to hold back the gasp of pleasant surprise, she grasped her nipple more firmly between her thumb and forefinger, twisting it experimentally and feeling a sudden renewed flush of moisture between her legs, quickly coating her dark curls as the scent of her arousal filled the air. He had not touched her breasts the night before, and yet Hermione was sure that his touch would feel just like this, his hands steady and sure as they explored her and awoke new sensations within her.

Growing ever more confident, and desperate for Severus' touch with each passing minute, Hermione steeled her nerves and looking boldly into the mirror, locking her eyes with those of the imaginary Potions Master, she slid her other hand down from her chest, following the curve of her ribs down to the slight swell of her stomach and to the thick nest of curls at the apex of her thighs. It was when she felt the first soft and damp curl brush against her knuckle, that Hermione's confidence began to waver, a wave of embarrassment coursing through her and causing her touch to falter.

Drawing a deep breath to steady her nerves as Hermione gave a defiant toss of her head, resettling her wet hair against her shoulders, and once again let her curious fingers descend in their quest for new knowledge. The first touch of her fingers against her swollen lips was slow, unsure and a little clumsy, but as they accidentally grazed over the small sensitized bud at the top of her mound, an excited squeak escaped her lips. The tremor of tingling pleasure that shot throughout her body at that small hesitant touch easily gave her the courage to continue, her fingers making another, more confident sweep of her lips and clitoris. The almost growling moan of enjoyment that fell from her lips worked only to bolster her courage all the more, and soon her fingers were damp with her own excitement.

A single sharp knock on the door roused Hermione from her explorations, a renewed flood of color marring her cheeks as she swiftly drew her eyes away from the mirror. Wrapping the towel around her body once more, she drew several deep breaths to calm herself and regain some semblance of normalcy, before striding towards the door.

"What do you guys want now? Can't you give a girl a few minutes of peace…" she was already admonishing as she swept the door open and promptly froze in abject horror and humiliation.

Instead of the blushing and uncomfortably fidgeting boys she had expected, Hermione found herself face to face with the very man who had been tormenting her thoughts all morning.

"Tell me, Hermione, do you always answer the door in such a _fetching_ ensemble?" Severus crooned in a low purr that was pitched barely above a whisper, just loud enough for her to hear over the frantic pounding of her heart.

"I… err… I…" she began to stammer in reply, her cheeks flushing ever darker with renewed heat until she was sure that they were about to catch fire.

"Or is this for my benefit alone?" he continued as if she had not spoken. A nervous giggle and further reddening of her cheeks was the only response Hermione was able to provide as she remained unmoving in the doorway, one hand gripping the door handle while the other clutched at the front of her towel as if her life depended on it.

"Can… can I help you with something, Professor?" she managed to squeak, her knees beginning to feel as if someone had just cast a Jelly Legs Jinx on her.

"Mmm, that is quite an intriguing question," he murmured in sultry tones as his eyes roamed over her unabashedly, drinking in every inch of revealed flesh, and making Hermione suddenly wish that she had a far larger towel in which to hide herself. "However, I simply stopped by as a courtesy. You would not want to leave your belongings lying around in the dungeons, after all," he continued as he produced Hermione's forgotten robes and back pack from behind his back.

"Thank you," she muttered, mentally berating herself for forgetting them in the classroom in the first place; but then, all things considered, she supposed that she couldn't really be blamed for such a small oversight. Reaching out to accept her belongings from the dark man filling her doorway, she bit back a squeal of surprise as he simply swept past her outstretched arm and stepped into the room.

Momentarily frozen in place, Hermione continued to stare out into the hallway, blinking slowly, until her mind kicked back into action. Deciding that it would be best _not_ to have some hapless student come waltzing by to see the scantily clad and dripping wet Head Girl standing in the doorway with the despised Potions Professor behind her, she quickly shut the door. Spinning on her bare heels to face him, she pressed her back against the cool wood, a single trickle of water running down her spine from her still sopping wet hair.

"Was there something else you needed…" she began to ask, only to be cut off a moment later as Severus quickly swooped down upon her, a hungry gleam in his eyes as he planted both of his palms upon the door to either side of her shoulders.

"Oh, there is much that I need, Hermione," he replied in a husky growl, deliberate emphasis placed on her name causing it roll over his lips as a sumptuous caress.

"Last night was…"

"Just the beginning," Severus purred as he leaned in towards her, his breath sweet with the scent of tea, wafting around her face and causing her brain to stutter for a moment as she felt herself drifting closer to him.

"Surely it is not approp…" Hermione began again, shaking her head to regain control of her own thoughts, and once again planting her back firmly against the closed door.

"Do not tell me you are going to start paying attention to the rules now, Hermione," Severus cut in with a rich laugh, his lips curving in the most tempting way as he stepped closer to her, his hips barely a foot from hers.

"Now, just you hang on a minute…" she began to protest, the rest of her tirade dying unspoken in the back of her throat as Severus closed the remaining distance between them. The hot and heavy weight of his hips pressed securely against her own easily erasing all protests from her mind, and drawing a deep sigh of satisfaction from her lips, which were promptly covered by Severus' demanding mouth.

"Would you… kindly… stop… interrupting me… it is really… quite…" Hermione continued to babble in between Severus' heated and persistent kisses. It was as though he seemed intent to devour her from head to toe starting with her lips.

"Do you _ever_ cease talking?" he whispered as he drew his lips from hers and began laying a trail of kisses down across her cheek to her chin, and then down onto the side of her neck.

"Of course I do!" she exclaimed in reply, immediately earning a dark chuckle in response, the feel of his lips curving into a smile against her skin sending an unexpected bolt of electricity straight down into the pit of her belly. "Bastard!" she added a moment later in a hiss, though her voice lacked any true conviction. Her curse flowed easily into a sigh of appreciation as his lips closed around the thick muscle that linked her neck to her shoulder, his teeth scraping across her flesh in the most delicious way.

"Wench," he shot back simply, an amused lilt softening his roughened voice, as he proceeded to sooth the fresh bite mark upon her shoulder with a languid sweep of his tongue.

"How dare you call me…" Hermione began, her back stiffening as her hands fell upon his shoulders to push him away.

Once again, she found herself silenced by his ravenous mouth as he claimed her lips in a thought-erasing kiss.

"Must I find other uses for that silver tongue in order to silence you, my dear?" he crooned against her lips, his hands settling lightly upon hers as they lay on his shoulders. Gently grasping her hands, he guided them down to rest upon his slender hips, feeling her breath hitch against his mouth.


End file.
